


Getting to Know You

by whatever_you_want



Series: Little Bird, Finding Home [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Caregiver!Phil, Classification AU, Diapers, Friendship, Jealousy, Littles Are Known, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Wetting, little!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2020-04-23 19:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19157734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatever_you_want/pseuds/whatever_you_want
Summary: Clint adjusts to life in the Tower through interactions with all his new housemates. Having a Little around certainly stirs things up.And when his class becomes public knowledge, they all band together to show Clint that being Little is okay.





	1. Progress Made

**Author's Note:**

> Hi-ya! Sorry for being gone so long, Endgame kinda made me sad for a bit but hey, if I just pretend it didn’t happen I’m golden! This story all feature little!clint more heavily as well. As always, enjoy :)

For all the fuss Clint kicked up over the move, it was relatively painless in completion. Yes, the windows were in the wrong spots and at night Clint couldn’t see the shine of late night trucks but Phil was understanding of that and reminded him it was an adjustment. Clint was fully capable of telling himself that but somehow hearing it come from Phil made it true.

Phil would talk about their day in detail during breakfast and assured him he was always a call away throughout the first week. It became a new comfort for Clint to know he could guiltlessly retreat to Phil if things got too much...although he was too proud and too Big to indulge in the privilege of his on-call Caregiver. Home and work were always separate and he did his best to maintain that. Clint was reluctant for any repeats of the last disaster. 

For now, his Classification was still confidential information shared only with his team. With that worry cast to the side, he was able to focus on all his other worries: adherence to the new Little schedule, his stupid accidents when Big, and actually talking to the people he lived with. 

(Phil kept trying to get him to join them during activities and meals or just to visit but Clint got smaller and clung to him as a final line of defense)

Wearing a pull up for ‘just in case’ was pretty mortifying but not enough so that Clint put up a real fight against it. His goal was to return to his previous level of functioning. The accident issue was meant to resolve and Clint was determined it would, so long as he followed the schedule he and Phil had devised. 

The first Friday night came around and Clint was anxious at the prospect of being Little in the Tower. Even though Phil assured him no one else knew his schedule or would see him, he couldn’t shake the fear of getting caught by his teammates when he wasn’t himself. Clint could hardly keep still the entire ride home and Phil put his hand on his knee and squeezed reassuringly. 

“It’s okay be nervous Little Bird but we’re going to be on our floor this weekend. Just you and me adjusting to the new apartment, okay?”

Clint wasn’t Little yet but the steady Caretaker tone he used soothed his nerves regardless. 

It would be okay because Daddy took care of Clint. 

Little Clint made a grand appearance when they stepped into the elevator. He hadn’t switched headspaces so suddenly at a planned time in a long time. The thought was gone in seconds however because Little Clint was busy staring at the panel and buttons while Daddy was tap-tap-tapping something on his phone. 

“Buttons,” he breathed, too quietly for Daddy to have heard and he carefully jabbed each one watching them glow blue with a small gasp of glee.

“Hey!” 

A hand caught his wrist and Clint shrunk against Daddy with an apologetic smile tilted upwards. Almost half the panel was lit up blue and Clint thought purple was be better but the lights were still pretty. Daddy took his side holster from him — something he wasn’t supposed to play with when he was Little — tucking it under his arm. 

“Oops, Daddy.”

Daddy didn’t seem convinced that pressing the buttons was an accident but he didn’t give Clint his disappointed look. 

“I know it’s exciting to see all these buttons but we don’t go to those floors. We go to this floor here. 23. Jarvis?”

“Already on your way, Sir,”

Clint looked around wildly for the person. It was eerie but somehow familiar.

“Daddy,” he whispered urgently. “Ghosts.”

“Not a ghost, sweetheart. An AI, remember?”

Clint looked around suspiciously. He didn’t see an eyes either. Ghost eyes? 

“Hmm.”

Phil, well aware Clint wasn’t paying attention, just leaned down to kiss the top of his head. The stress of the week and the report he needed to complete this weekend for a foreign leader faded to much more tolerable levels as he was able to think more clearly. A top priority had presented itself and now everything else fell into place. 

Clint was antsy during the elevator journey upward even though it really wasn’t very long and when the doors open he burst out like he’d spent the last five years there. It took a second for Clint to look around and realize that no, this wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

“Daddy! Chirp!” Clint’s bottom lip trembled dangerously and Phil set his briefcase down against the wall and took Clint’s hand, leading him to his new room.

Big Clint had been in it before, mostly to retrieve Blanket and Chirp at night and to replace them in the morning. Little Clint hesitated a bit at the door. 

“This is your room,” Phil told him. “Don’t you want to play?”

Clint rocked back onto his heels bottom lip pushing out into a pout of upset. The hand holding Phil’s tightened a bit. 

“Purple.”

It took Phil a moment to thread to together his hesitation. Clint’s doorknob had been dyed a vague purple hue from the bathtub paint. This one was not.

“This a new place, yes? You didn’t get into the paint here.” Phil left the ‘and please don’t get into the paints here’ unsaid.

“Home?” Clint requested feebly, eyes shining with unshed tears. 

Phil had expected as much. Big Clint had come to terms with it relatively quickly but Little Clint was more resistant to change than his counterpart. 

“This is home now Clint. Let’s get you out of those Big clothes and we can look around, okay?”

The Little looked at the door with reproach then at Phil, big blue eyes pleading. “Change at home, Daddy.”

“All of your things are here.” Phil put his hand on Clint’s back to keep him from shying back which he attempted immediately. “Come see.”

“Home,” Clint’s voice wobbled and his thumb slipped into his mouth. “Daddy, I wanna go home.”

“Daddy can’t understand you with your fingers in your mouth,” Phil wasn’t going to push this. They had all weekend to get him acclimated, or to start the process. “I’m opening the door.”

“Ghosts!” Clint threw himself bonelessly against Phil, heaving sobs breaking the Caregiver’s heart as he tried to soothe him. 

Phil sat down in the hallway and pulled Clint close. Tears and snot and saliva from Clint’s thumb still lodged in his mouth wet the shoulder of his shirt but Phil wasn’t concerned about that. He squeezed his boy tightly and assured him that he was safe over and over. No amount of research made Phil feel anymore equipped to handle such distraught though he did his best to try and calm him. When Clint had exhausted himself to broken hearted sniffles, face tucked against Phil’s neck, it felt like the start of progress. He kept rubbing his back through every hitched inhale and quiet plea of ‘home’. 

At lot of what Clint carried when he was Big spilled out when he let him go and his Little side was filter free. The adult part of him was obviously still uncomfortable here but coping well. The Little part was even more reluctant to change than the Big one. The adjustment wouldn’t be impossible but it definitely wasn’t going to be easy. 

Phil had made sure the gun and holster he’d taken from him in the elevator was well outreach of where they were currently sitting, but even seeing it made him a bit uncomfortable. It was one of those things he always kept in the back of his mind: what if Little Clint remembered where weapons were stored and wanted to play with them? 

It was why he kept a strict no toy weapons policy that Big Clint complained liberally about. 

Clint mumbled something that Phil didn’t catch. He leaned in a bit and said, “I’m sorry, Little Bird, can you speak up a little?”

Clint whined in opposition, scrunching up a bit closer to Phil before he pulled away to huff, “wet” before hiding his face against Phil’s skin once more. 

“Let’s get you changed.” Phil said gently and as expected Clint protested with a wail. “What about a bath...would you like one?”

“Not tired.” Clint protested because bath time typically came before bed.

“I know. You haven’t had dinner yet. How about you have your bath and dinner, then we’ll play and watch a film. Okay?”

“...at home?” 

For someone ‘not tired’ Clint looked ready to drop off any second as he rubbed his red eyes blearily. In the past Phil had Clint ‘rest his eyes’ after a meltdown of such proportions but it was so close to the evening that would do nothing but spoil any hopes of the a full night of rest for the both of them. 

Phil smiled sadly. “Here, pumpkin.”

Clint heaved in a deep breath and started to sob.

The Little seemed to settle after he was dry and redressed in more comforting clothing than Shield’s regulation uniform. Clint poked around his new room, Chirp smooshed against his chest as if it was the only thing in the world that made sense and for him, it probably seemed that way. 

Phil was adjusting to the ‘grocery shopping’ system, initially startled by the food he didn’t ask for or buy just appearing in their kitchen. 

He shut off Jarvis’ audio — Clint didn’t need any extra stimulation or, God forbid, to think the new apartment was haunted. While making dinner, Phil sat Clint at the dining room table which seemed far too big for two people, like the rest of the place. Clint sat in his seat completely silent which was highly unusual looking lost and confused. 

Occasionally he would pick up the black crayon and make a single line on the paper laid out. 

Steve had offered to make them dinner and Phil had declined with an increased feeling of guilt. He knew how Steve felt, to an extent. He’d gone years with the urge to nurture being unfulfilled but he hadn’t had to do with a Little in front of him. Steve had always been afraid to intrude on their relationship, but Littles were magnetic for Caregivers and visa versa. Little Clint had taken to Steve so quickly it had stung a bit initially.

But this wasn’t selfishness, he reminded himself. He had no problem with Steve helping him when he had duties he couldn’t refuse. But this weekend (and perhaps even next, should things proceed slowly) it was important to re-establish their routine. That was of course going to be peppered with special activities and rewards because Phil couldn’t resist spoiling his little bird. 

The gun was in the safe in his office as well which was a relief. 

Dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets were baking which was by far the least balanced meal he’d given Clint in a very long time but he deserved something special. Anything to make him smile, Phil thought with a heavy heart.

“Do you want to use another color?” Phil asked as Clint added another hard line of black to the bleak drawing.

He seemed to consider it, big eyes raising to meet Phil before lowering to assess the colors laid out. Then he shook his head once, decisively, and made another line. 

“Okay.” Phil wasn’t going to push. He couldn’t make Clint feel more comfortable here, not until he truly felt it himself. “Dinner is almost done.”

Clint put his thumb in his mouth and stared at the paper. 

It was unnerving for him to be still and quiet; knowing there was no ‘fix’ was crushing. Clint fell asleep in the first ten minutes of the movie and Phil tucked him into bed with a somber attitude. He made sure to leave his hearing aids in the right spot on the side table that was just a little further from where it normally was by the bed and he left the door cracked just in case he woke up and was confused.

Jarvis set the hallway lights on low night settings and Phil went to his office to decompress a bit. All in all not completely horrible, Phil thought. Then he looked at the sad drawing Clint had pushed toward him when Phil brought his plate over.

It was void of the usual squiggles and colors. Just straight hard lines and jagged edges in black. 

Tomorrow Clint could wake up Big and the task would be paused until Little Clint came back — or he could wake up Little and Phil would continue on the path they’d began. Phil was prepared for either options and always, hopeful he’d get more time with Little Clint.

Tony had kicked up a fuss about Shield’s private server, clearly offended by the unspoken accusation of Tony helping himself to classified information. Phil did not doubt for a second that Tony would — it was his nature, he was always curious and while that wasn’t a bad thing removing the temptation was best. Fury insisted Tony was untrustworthy when it came to national secrets, but Phil had trouble seeing the malicious side of Tony that the Director did; maybe it was Caregiver tendencies overlapping. Tony liked to learn, like to poke and prod and see every part of everything. It was just his personality.

He seemed mostly over it anyway, occasionally insulting Shield’s technological departments and capabilities when the two ran into each other. It’d only been a few days though. Phil wrote up the report, anxiously waiting for Clint to start crying or come and find him. He went to bed fully expecting Clint to wake him shortly afterward but he didn’t. He opened his eyes to an empty room, only partially unpacked and a very quiet apartment. 

[oOoOo]

Clint woke up and he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

His head felt heavy and his eyes were itchy and he was wet (Clint had to tell Daddy or he’d get itchy…) but the walls weren’t right and it was too big and too empty and the window was by his bed not above it. With his heart galloping in chest he looked wildly around for Daddy and then for his aids so the Quiet would go away. The lights turned on, slowly getting brighter but he didn’t see a light switch. 

This wasn’t home, Daddy wouldn’t bring him back home, Clint remembered suddenly. His bottom lip trembled and he got out of the bed. The carpet was soft and his toes squished into it. Distracted momentarily by the plush feel of it under his feet, his curiosity began to pique above his fear of this new place. He padded hesitantly toward the door and poked his head out.

Magically the hallway got a bit brighter. Clint suspected it was the ghost’s doing and figured it must not have been too scary if it chased away the shadows. So long as it didn’t talk Clint didn’t have to be scared of it right now. He held tight to Chirp as he ventured out, unsure of where to go. 

It wasn’t home so he didn’t know where Daddy was. 

He followed the hallway and found himself in the living room. The TV was too big and the couches didn’t take up enough room. One wall was just tinted glass and no matter how hard Clint squashed his face against it to see outside, he couldn’t. 

When Clint saw the door however, and he remembered it. He had to go through it and into the elevator and then home. Maybe Daddy was there waiting. 

His fingers were clumsy but he got the door open and the little hallspace in front of the big metal doors light up slowly. There was a potted plant by the door and Clint couldn’t help himself: he plucked some thick green leaves off the branches. They were bigger than his hands and probably his whole face! 

Daddy would probably be sad, like he was when Clint picked flowers from the garden at their real home, Clint realized when he ran out of leaves in his reach to pluck. Clint looked down at the leaves scattered at his feet and gathered them carefully, setting Chirp to the side to keep watch, should the ghost voice come back. 

“Sorry plant.” Clint put the leaves back in the pot. “I won’t do it ‘gain.”

Daddy would be proud of Clint for remembering to apologize without being reminded. So proud that maybe they wouldn't have to leave home again. 

With Chirp back in his arms he approached the metal doors that seemed to loom above him and, in another display of the ghost’s abilities, they parted. Clint inched inside, frightened the floor would fall out from under his feet and he would fall and fall and fall. 

It was one of those Big fears that Little Clint couldn’t make odds or ends of and it scared him regardless. But the floor felt firm under his feet, a little cold because because it was shiny wood rather than the soft carpet. The buttons lit up and Clint was tempted to push each and every one but Daddy had told him not to last time. 

He didn’t know which one would bring him home. 

“Can I be of assistance, Mr. Barton?”

The ghost! He squeaked has huddled in the corner, his wet pull up now sodden as he held Chirp tightly and whispered ‘gonna be ok, gonna be okay’ over and over like Daddy had done but it didn’t help and Chirp didn’t feel any safer and neither did Clint. His sobs were noisy and unrestrained as he held tight to Chirp and hoped Daddy would make it all go away.

“Mr. Barton I am sensing you’re in a state of distress. I will be bring you to the nearest person.”

Clint wanted to rip out his hearing aids because the ghost knew his name and it was the most scared he’d ever been. It was more scary than the Quiet and the Shadows and the Hands and the corners and all those Big fears that Little Clint didn’t know the words for. The ghost knew him and no one was ‘posed to know him. Tasha would be so mad. 

The doors opened and suddenly Clint was face to face with a stranger. 

Clint pushed his face further into Chirp with deep wracking sobs because everything was bad bad bad. 

“Oh no. Are you okay, Clint?” 

It was a lady but it wasn’t Tasha and Clint really wanted Tasha bad right now. Even though she’d hate him because the ghost knew him, she kept him safe. 

“Clint?” 

Clint knew that male voice like a familiar echo, not quite like the ghost though. He peered up through tear webbed eyelashes at the woman kneeling in front of him, hand outstretched toward him but not touching him. She had a red hair, like Tasha, all tied back fancy and...and Clint maybe had seen her before, when he was Big. 

The familiar voice came closer. 

“Pepper, is that seriously Clint?”

“Yes, Tony, stop it.”

“Stop what? I asked a question. Am I allowed to ask questions anymore?”

“He’s crying, just cut it out for a second. Keep his feelings in mind.”

“And what about my feelings Pepp?” He crowded the already tight space, arms folded over his chest. “Hm?”

Clint wanted to flee but he couldn’t. He was stuck and-and he needed his Daddy! 

“Where is the kid’s keeper?”

“Don’t call him that.” the lady called Pepper chastised and when she caught him peeking smiled sweetly. “Hey sweetheart, I bet you’re really scared, huh?”

“Christ Pepper, give the man some dignity.” Tony crossed his arms leaning against the elevator wall. 

“He’s not a man right now, Tony. He’s a little boy who’s in a new place surrounded by people he doesn’t know.” Pepper’s voice was sharp but she smiled at Clint. “And watch your language.”

“Oh god, taking pointers from Steve I see.” Tony scoffed and Clint lifted his face because he knew him for sure. 

“Steve.” 

“That’s right honey, Steve lives here too.” Pepper offered her outstretched hand again. “Let’s bring you home, I’m sure Phil is very worried.”

“Home?” Clint said eagerly wiping his face and nose with his sleeve.

Tony pulled a funny face and Clint giggled. The man who he knew but didn’t looked him over at the sound and then stepped out of the elevator. 

“Well clearly you’ve got it. I’m heading into the lab before the meeting. Make sure you get our reward money from the Agent.”

Pepper pressed her lips together smiling a little. The joke went over Clint’s head. He was just gleeful to be returning home. “Did you get lost this morning?” Pepper asked.

She wasn’t his Mommy but she smelled nice and she held Clint’s hand well. If the floor fell out she would probably hold on tight just like Daddy would. “No.”

He shuffled closer and rested his head against her arm. He was hungry and tired and his eyes were still itchy and he was wet. Pepper’s hold on his hand loosened abruptly before the hold resumed. “No? Did you go on an adventure?”

“Home.” Clint said, thumb slipping into his mouth because Daddy wasn’t there to stop him. 

“That’s where we’re heading.”

The doors opened and the door was yanked open. Daddy was still in his night clothes and he was frowning very deeply. 

“Thank you so much Pepper. I hope he didn’t wake you.”

“Not at all,” Pepper said and Clint looked at the green leafy plant, realized where he was and began to cry. “Oh dear.”

“Home!” Clint howled.

“You are home, Clint.” 

He was pressed gently toward Daddy who took him in his arms and began to soothe him. 

“I guess he was exploring and got spooked by Jarvis.” Pepper said with a small shrug.

“I turned him off in here which was very foolish in retrospect because I didn’t know he’d left until Tony...made me aware.” 

Clint continued to cry and Daddy rubbed his back. “Then I suppose I should be apologizing to you. He gets in a mood when he has to go to meetings. He wasn’t unkind toward Clint but… Patience is not his forte.”

“It’s quite alright.” 

Daddy patted Clint’s bum, checking how wet it was, and Clint squirmed furiously to be set free.

“I have to wrangle Tony out of the lab but it was very nice to meet you, Clint.” Pepper leaned forward a bit with the friendly smile that was comforting when the ghost was after him. 

Now Clint was with Daddy and he shied back behind his legs, hands fisting the hem of Daddy’s shirt. Pepper waved goodbye and the metal doors closed. 

Daddy took a deep breath. 

“First things first, you need to be changed. Then breakfast and then we need to talk about rules.”

Clint tilted his head back and wailed once more. This new place was horrible and he wanted to go home. 

[oOoOo]

Clint squirmed and whined when Phil lowered his sleeping pants, a bit damp from the wet pull up. 

“Change at home!” He begged.

“Clint, I know it’s difficult but I need you to be a good boy and stay still so we can get you clean and dry.”

“Itchy.” The Little whined. 

Phil grimaced as Clint shoved his hand unceremoniously down the front of the pull-up. 

“Clint!” Phil used the sternest voice he dared to without setting Clint off too badly. “Do we put our hands inside our diaper?”

Clint flinched a bit, obviously aware the answer was ‘no’. He tilted his head back, looking around the bathroom before he slowly pulled the hand out and mumbled, “’issa pull-up.” 

“Clinton.” 

The Little whimpered and went rub the tears from his eyes. Phil caught the dirty hand and Clint keened in opposition, back arching up from the floor in the early stages of a tantrum. A tantrum because Phil would not let him rub his eyes with the hand covered in urine. Today was set to be a ‘hard day’ for Clint and that was fine. In fact it was expected with all the change around him. Phil pulled off his sleep pants with one hand and then broke the clasp on the pull up. He wiped down the squirming Little who demanded to go home half a dozen times and then Phil finished rubbing the rash ointment into the crease of his thighs (there was no rash yet but it was red and he intended to diaper him). 

“Up.”

Clint surprisingly obeyed that, standing passively to the side. Phil still held the wrist of the dirty hand carefully as he moved the same step up stool in front of the fancy multi-basin sinks that they’d had at the old apartment. He had set up the middle one as Clint’s little sink with his car toothbrush and bubble gum toothpaste and ‘detective’ mouthwash that made oral hygiene more fun for him. There was also a bottle of a kids friendly soap. 

“How many pumps?” Phil asked him with a smile.

Clint’s frown vanished for a wonderful moment and his Little grinned at him in the mirror. “Twenty seven!”

“What?” Phil gasped. “The whole bathroom will be filled with bubbles!”

“Twenty seven,” Clint said again, with a clumsy slyness. 

“Next time, pumpkin. Let’s try one and then you can sit on the potty for a bit while Daddy gets your clothes together.”

Big Clint would have fussed but Little Clint held out his hand expectantly for the pump and then hummed the handwash song as he lathered the soap up between his hands. When it was time, Phil opened the tap and the soap vanished down the drain, Clint hunched over to pop any bubbles that somehow survived the journey to the drain. 

Clint’s hands were dried on the hanging towel after a moment’s hesitation (it wasn’t in the same spot as the old apartment; Phil expected tears and was happy to be disappointed) and then the Little flung his hands into his Daddy’s face for ‘germ’ inspection. 

“Good job little bird! You got them all.”

That earned a gleeful clap and then Clint looked toward the toilet. 

“I like the one at home.” He said immediately.

“I know but this one is even better.”

Clint gave him a skeptical look that Phil knew well from Big Clint. 

“Come on,” Phil lifted him up. “Stay still, I don’t want you to fall off.”

Clint pouted. “Not gonna fall.”

Clint was squinting suspiciously around the bathroom as though it was his first time seeing it. Phil had feeling he was off task when he started to kick his feet and the Little didn’t protest when Phil plucked him off of it and got him dressed. 

He made scrambled eggs and blueberries, two foods he knew Clint loved, and filled up his purple cup. Clint promptly abandoned the fork he had previously clutched in his fist and seized with cup with both hands. A smile drifted across Phil’s face, the serenity of just being with Clint as his sole focus brought him more joy than he knew how to express. 

He felt fulfilled and accomplished in way that not even saving the world made him feel. This was what it felt like to have his needs met, to finally let biology take control and remind him that this was what mattered — time with his little bird. 

The rest was white noise. 

Clint’s early morning adventure was still heavy on Phil’s mind however, no matter how happy he was just watching the Little drink juice greedily for his beloved purple cup. 

“Eat,” Phil reminded him, tapping the handle of the silverware lying on the table. 

Clint set down the cup and scooped up some more eggs obediently and gave his Daddy a dazzling smile. Maybe today wouldn’t be a tough day for Clint after all? 

When breakfast was cleared away Phil took Clint’s hand and led him through a very slow, very careful tour of the new apartment again. Clint got teary eyed when he was told it was home but no tantrums occurred. 

Progress, Phil thought in satisfaction. 

“Just because we’re somewhere new doesn’t mean the rules don’t apply,” Phil sat him down on the couch. “Do you understand?”

“‘stan’,” Clint sniffled and leaned heavily against Phil. “Ghosts, Daddy.”

“There is no ghost honey. It’s Jarvis, the AI. I’m going to turn him back on now, okay?”

“Please,” Clint begged fearfully eyes wide. “Please!”

“Daddy’s right here,” Phil assured him. “It’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Clint hiccuped out, tears slipping down his pink flushed cheeks. “It’s okay.”

Seeing him so distraught made Phil’s chest ache. But not having Jarvis on had made him unaware that Clint had left. What if he’d found his way outside? While he was certain Jarvis would have stopped him or done some sort of override, it wasn’t something he was willing to risk. 

“Jarvis, sound please.”

“Very well, Sir.”

Clint went rigid. 

“Clint? That’s Jarvis, just like we just talked about. He’s not a ghost, he responds when you talk to him.” Phil ran a hand over Clint’s back. He was holding his breath, it seemed. “Take a breath, Clint.”

Clint trembled and then sucked in a deep noisy breath that he held. 

“And let it out,” Phil prodded and Clint technically did so, in the form of a shriek. “Hey, none of that.”

“Issa ghost.” Clint nearly rammed his head into Phil’s jaw he jerked upright so quickly. His eyes were wild however and he looked around. 

“No, it’s a voice.” Phil brushed the tears from Clint’s cheeks. “Ghosts aren’t real but I know they seem scary. Jarvis is a computer. Like how you can talk to the TV.”

Clint wiped his nose with his sleeve and Phil tutted reaching for a tissue. The Little tried to squirm away from having his nose wiped but Phil managed to hook an arm around his middle. 

“It’s just like the TV,” Phil continued over Clint’s whimpering objections. “But instead of just starting your shows and changing the volume, Jarvis can do a whole lot more.”

“...turned the lights on in my room?” Clint asked in a whisper.

“It is an energy saving program that is a default setting. My sensors gradually raise the light in any room with human temperature signatures,” Jarvis contributed. “It can be ceased, if you wish.”

“It’s in the ‘vator, too.” Clint said in an accusatory tone, looking around suspiciously.

“I am throughout the entire building, Mister Barton.” 

Clint turned his head from glaring at TV to stare at Phil so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash. “Clint,” he whispered and pushed a finger against his own chest. “Ghost knows, Daddy.”

“It’s not a ghost,” Phil said what for felt like the millionth time. It was interesting that Little Clint had such a reaction to Jarvis knowing his identity. Clint, when Big, had disliked it as well. “It knows you because you live here.”

Clint’s thumb edged toward his bottom lip and Phil tugged it away. There has been far too much thumb sucking the past few days and Phil didn’t want Clint to get sick. He considered getting his Nuk. 

“Hey, it’s okay Clint. I promise you.”

“Promise you,” Clint echoed, blue eyes moving restlessly over the room. “Promise you.”

“Yes, little bird. Daddy promises you.”

Clint settled from there, much to Phil’s relief. Jarvis’ voice still got wide eyed stares from Clint but he didn’t startle or cry. He adamantly refused to speak it but that was fine, for now. Clint would adjust and adapt to the AI. Phil managed to coax Clint into eating his lunch and rubbed his back until he finally fell asleep for his nap. 

When Clint had perked up from his previously sleepy state, Phil was relieved to find a much chipper and curious Little. He ran from room to room in search of the best hide and seek places and abandoned the game when he stumbled upon the den. His toy chest seemed pitiful in the corner. The room smelled of fresh paint and echoed as Clint hesitantly said, “Daddy?”

“You can play,” Phil took his hand and walked him across the stretch of room. “It’s pretty empty in here, huh?”

Clint was occupied with rifling through the box so he didn’t look up as he nodded. 

“What if you got some new toys to put in here?”

Clint picked the farm because of course he did. How such a hyperactive Little didn’t get bored with the same toys escaped him. Clint plopped down unceremoniously beside where Phil had knelt and prodded at the farm. 

“Set up?” 

“And how do we ask, little bird?” 

The tip of Clint’s tongue poked out for a moment and he looked around the room seeming lost and confused. Phil opened his mouth to remind him but Clint beat him to it with a, “Please.”

“Good boy,” Phil was practically glowing with pride and set up the same scene he did every time. “You know this farm needs? A farmer.”

“Farmer?” Clint tilted his head and opened the gate to push a soft rubber cow figurine in. 

The set didn’t even match. Most of these things Clint had collected himself, always so hesitant when it came to being given anything that wasn’t ‘necessary’. Phil had always hesitated around pushing that boundary but maybe they were at the point where those sorts of things were okay. 

“Someone to take care of the farm,” Phil explained. “The animals can’t take care of themselves, right?”

“Self.” Clint nodded his head firmly, exactly as Big Clint probably would have felt. 

“But they don’t have to take care of themselves if there’s a farmer.” Phil said gently. “Then they can focus on just being happy.”

Clint glanced at him and then nodded with a slow smile. “Farmer.”

Phil was probably overthinking the meaning behind the words but it sounded like Clint realizing that things were better when he was be cared for. Either way Phil made a note to place the order just as soon as he got the chance and enjoyed this special time with favorite Clint.


	2. A Little Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Clint is feeling big (and brave) and decides he wants to go swimming with the whole team!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry for the such a wait between chapters, life for crazy and Endgame bummed me out but I was still writing bits at a time. So thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy some little!clint fluff.

“Swim!”

Phil looked up in surprise at the proclamation, eyeing the clock on his laptop. Eleven thirty was much too late for little Clint to be wandering the floor. 

“It’s a little late for you to be up buddy,” Phil closed the computer and stood. “In fact I remember tucking you in already.”

“Swim,” Clint repeated, this time with a wobble in his voice as he rubbed a fist over his eyes blearily. “Please?”

Phil stepped around the desk and approached where the Little stood in the doorway of the office. While he wasn’t sure what had woken the Little up, Phil was intent on getting him back to bed. An overtired Clint was nothing to take lightly. 

“In the morning,” Phil placated, a hand resting on his back, moving in slow comforting circles trying to lure him back to sleep.

“With Steve an’ Tasha. An’...an’ e’rybody.” Clint slurred tiredly as Phil led him down the hall. 

Clint hadn’t made any move toward meeting the other household members so Phil was once more caught off guard. 

“We can ask,” he said slowly. 

Chances were no one was free for an impromptu swim. Steve would probably cancel whatever he had planned to appease the request and Phil wasn’t certain about Natasha though she wasn’t on any active missions at the moment. Bruce and Tony both kept themselves well occupied at all times and couldn’t be bothered to eat much less go for a leisurely swim with a Little they hadn’t even met yet. 

Clint snuggled into the bed, wrapping an arm securely around Chirp as Phil pulled the blankets back up around him. “Hadda dream,” Clint mumbled as his eyes fluttered. “‘Bout swimmin’.”

Ah. 

Phil smiled down at Clint as he drifted back out to his dreams. There was something comforting about the quiet even breathes Clint drew and Phil ran a hand through his fluffy blond hair. Moments like this, where everything was still and quiet, were rare. He loved them as much as he loved the cheerful grin on Clint’s face when he keyed up with energy but there was always something satisfying about seeing the Little snuggled up so safe and comfortable and knowing he, Phil, had done it. 

The next morning he was woken by Clint climbing into his bed, as usual, and loud breathing in his ear. He cracked an eye and found him lying inches from his face, a wide smile on his face. Resisting the urge to pinch his cherub cheeks Phil smiles sleepily. “Good morning little bird.”

“Wet.”

“Good job telling me,” Phil praised as he led him into the bathroom.

Clint was far more wiggley than normal and distracted as he looked around the room. “Up,” Phil prodded, tapping his hip. 

“Do I gotta?” Clint eyed the diaper. “Pull up!”

Phil drew in a careful breath and considered the best way to proceed. The last few weeks had been trying on Clint’s self esteem and the washer because pull ups were made for the occasional accident not normal use. Explaining it that way to Big Clint had been disastrous enough to rock him into a Little mindset in the middle of the week. 

“These do a better job, buddy.” Phil kept his tone light. If he was casual about it, Clint wouldn’t see it as a big deal. No fuss no muss. 

The Little looked balefully at him, worrying his bottom lip. “Imma see Steve an’ Tasha an’ e’rybody an’... I’m not a baby, Daddy.”

Apparently the swimming idea had not been forgotten.

“Of course you’re not a baby sweetheart.” Phil carefully pulled Clint’s bottom lip from between his teeth. “Even big boys need help sometimes.”

“Pull ups help. I won’t have an accident, promise!” Clint insisted, propping himself up on his elbows. “It doesn’t happen lots.”

With a carefully suppressed sigh the caretaker considered the pitfalls and reminding the Little that yes, it did happen lots. If it was simply the risk of wet pants, Phil would have allowed it. But uh-ohs were now just as common and messy pants were an absolute pain. 

“I don’t want you to accidentally get your pants wet in front of Steve or Tasha. That wouldn’t be fun, would it?”

Clint looked alarmed. “No!”

“This will keep you clean and dry,” Phil nudged his bum up enough to slide the thick padding beneath him. “And warm and cozy.”

“I’m not a baby?” Clint’s thumb was creeping toward the corner of his mouth.

Phil made quick work of taping up the sides and catching the hand before fingers could find their way into the Little’s mouth. “You’re Daddy’s big boy!”

The smile that bloomed on his face put any feelings of unease at rest. Even with the tough talks, he’s gotten his little boy to smile. “Swim!”

“We need to get dressed and then breakfast,” Phil corrected and the excitement shifted toward defiance. “And then we’ll see about swimming, okay?”

Clint tried to put on swim trunks while Phil selected his clothing and came dangerously close to a tantrum when he was told he had to wear normal clothing for breakfast. When Clint eating a bowl of Cheerios and a diced up banana (“Imma big boy you don’t gotta cut it up so little, Daddy.”), Phil considered the swimming request. It was a good activity choice, a great way for Clint to burn some energy and to have fun but the request to make it a team activity still had him reeling. 

It was good, it meant Little Clint was more comfortable with the other people living in the building. But it also meant Phil would have to share. 

“I wanna ask,” Clint announced when Phil said he would ask the others about swimming. 

“You do?” He was both skeptical and impressed by the abrupt boldness.

Clint nodded and some milk dribbled down his chin as he clumsily spooned another mouthful. Phil grabbed a napkin to wipe it away but Clint whined and turned his face stubbornly. “I’m a big boy!”

With yet another suppressed sigh, Phil agreed he was in fact a big boy. “But big boys need to wipe their face.”

Clint took the napkin in banana coated fingers and rubbed it over his entire face, successfully missing his chin. “Imma big boy.” Clint looked so proud his Daddy didn’t have the heart to wipe off his chin at the moment. 

“I suppose you could ask,” Phil said slowly. “But everyone is busy, Clint. No means no. Don’t whine.”

Clint made a move to get up and Phil held up a hand.

“After you’ve eaten all your breakfast, Mister.” 

The Little consumed the food with gusto and when he was done, impatiently tolerated being wiped up. “I wanna ask Steve first. Then he can help ask e’rybody.”

“Steve might be busy,” Phil prefaced. “We can asked Jarvis where he is.”

“Ghost eye,” Clint agreed gravely with a nod of his head.

“AI,” Phil corrected.

“Ghost where’s Steve?” Clint cranked his head upwards.

“Captain Rogers is on his floor.”

Clint grasped his Daddy’s hand tugging him toward the door. “C’mon,” he urged. 

[oOoOo]

Steve wasn’t expecting visitors so the knock on the door caught him by surprise.

He set down the mug of coffee, wondering if Natasha or Sam had decided to swing by for a run or sparring session. He was pleasantly surprised to find Clint bouncing on his toes wearing a bright blue tee with a cartoon dinosaur on it. 

“What a lovely surprise.” Steve wondered if he was going to be asked to babysit. “How are you?”

“Very well,” Phil said pleasantly.

“You gotta come swimmin’!” Clint demanded. 

Phil was fully prepared to scold him for disregarding the ruleset he had been given, as well as breaking the rule about ‘inside voices’. Phil was far more lenient with that rule because his mindset typically ran lower than it was today and he didn’t grasp the concept of voice level with his limited vocabulary. Also, Phil always worried it wasn’t Clint acting up but rather the aids and he would hate to scold his Little for something that wasn’t his fault. 

“Swimming?” Steve smiled at the eager boy. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Does your daddy have to work?”

“Noooo,” drawled Clint, bouncing on his toes even more. “Daddy’s gonna come and Tasha and Mister Tony and Mister Bruce and Miss Pepper!”

Phil was impressed he knew their names and even more so that he wanted them all join to them. It was a weekend but that didn’t mean Miss Potts wouldn’t be busy putting out whatever fires Tony had lit. Phil played clean up with him around Shield so he had an inkling. If Steve was disappointed about it not being one on one time, he didn’t show it. 

“That sounds fun, Clint. Have you asked?”

“I gotta go ask e’rybody and you can come too,” Clint grabbed Steve’s hand and tugged him toward the door. “We gotta go ask...Tasha!”

“Miss Romanoff is currently in the gym.” Jarvis provided helpfully.

Clint squealed gleefully and pulled the caregivers toward the elevator doors that swept open. Phil and Steve exchanged eye contact and a polite but exasperated smiles. Neither wanted to rain on the parade by reminding him that not everyone will be able to swim. 

“Can I push the button Daddy?” 

“You may but only that button.” Phil warned because Clint liked to watch the panel light up. 

The Little pouted but he could hardly wait to see Tasha! Even if he didn’t get to all the buttons glow blue it was okay. 

“Okay Daddy!”

The gym was alive with the low crooning voice of a Russian singer and almost beat like thuds of Natasha striking the bag hanging in the corner. Phil made Clint hold his hand after he climbed onto an Elliptical and immediately got his feet tangled up and ended up on the soft foam mats. Clint tried to run ahead, the open space clearly adding to his excitement. 

“Tasha!” He screeched and the music cut off as Natasha turned her head looking surprised, stance defensive before she scanned the room for threats. “You gotta get changed.”

“Clint,” Phil said warningly. “You ask, you don’t tell.”

Clint tilted his head back with a whine of frustrated — how did his Daddy not know that everyone would want to go swimming because swimming was the best?! 

“Dressed to go where, exactly?” Natasha grabbed a towel and her water bottle, striding toward them. 

Her walk was closer to a prowl however and her eyes were trained on them, clearly trying to read the situation while awaiting her answer. Always calculating and cold by default, Natasha was the Black Widow — a fact that easily was forgotten until a trained eye saw her. The surge of protectiveness Phil and Steve experienced was quickly written off as an overreaction because Natasha would never hurt Clint and, should it come down to it, Clint could protect himself. 

“Swimmin’!” Clint crowed. 

“Swimming.” Natasha echoed. “I don’t have anything to do today so, sure. I’ll hop in the pool with you. Some Shield thing you have to run to?”

The questions was directed at the two caretakers. “Oh no, Clint has decided to invite everyone to swim.” Phil’s smile was between amused and apologetic. 

“We gotta go see Mister Tony and Mister Bruce and Miss Pepper now!”

“Sir and Doctor Banner are in the lab. Miss Potts is, regretfully, unavailable.” Jarvis supplied without prompting. 

Clint looked eagerly at Natasha. “D’ya wanna help ask?”

Natasha had once told Phil that finding out Clint was a Little had been one of the biggest shocks of her life. She still considered Big Clint to be her best friend but this side, she was still adjusting to. She had confessed a fear of never adjusting but her emotions were so well guarded Phil wasn’t certain if it was still the case. “I have to get ready,” Natasha said instead. “But it looks like you’ve got a really good team to help. I’ll see you in the pool in a bit buddy.”

“Okay,” Clint smiled, proud that Tasha thought he could do it by himself — that definitely meant that he was a big boy. 

“Are you sure?” Phil asked quietly.

Natasha’s long red ponytail swung as she shot the handler a dazzling grin. “Positive, Coulson. I’ll see you in the pool.”

“C’mon!” 

With renewed urgency they were rushed into the elevator and the lab level button was jab by an excited finger. “Are they gonna say yes Daddy?” Clint asked anxiously.

“I don’t know, little bird. We’ll have to ask.”

Clint rocked back on his heels. “I hope they say yes,”

The glass doors parted and Phil didn’t even get a chance to marvel at things because Clint crowed in excitement and raced directly to where Tony was welding some armor. Thankfully Steve super soldier reflexes kicked into gear and he caught the little around the middle. The soldering gun cut off and Tony pushed the goggles staring at them in disbelief. “Good way to lose an eye there Barton.” Tony groused. “Jar, a warning next time?”

“Very well Sir.”

“I’m sorry — ” Phil began but Clint cut him off.

“We’re goin’ swimmin’ and you gotta come! You an’ Mister Bruce! Miss Pepper is unah-inav-ble.”

It seemed to dawn on the genius that Clint was Little and an interested look passed his face. Fear, amusement and disbelief all came together to form one funny face that made Clint giggle. Stark opened his mouth and then shut it, brows knitting together as he looked over Clint toward Phil. The Caretaker offered an apologetic smile for the disturbance. “He was very excited to ask you himself. But he understands that you are very busy and if you can’t — ”

“Noooo,” Clint whimpered, bottom lip pushing out. He went so far as to reach out and seize the hem of Tony’s grease stained tee. “Please?”

Stark flinched back a bit and Phil was certain if it was his own reluctance at being touched or being touched by a Little that gauged such an awkward reaction. “Clinton,” Phil used his sternest voice and the Little quickly withdrew his hands with the saddest sniffle to date. 

“Swimming huh?” Tony managed, “and you want me to come?”

“Yeah-huh,” Clint bobbed his head hopefully. “Please?”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to say no to a face like that,” sighed Tony. “Sure, kid.”

Truly caught my surprise Phil didn’t shush the cheer Clint let out. “You gotta get changed,” Clint pressed and Tony gave him a wary look.

“You mean right this second?” Brown eyes looked to Phil for confirmation of this.

The Caretaker could have laughed — clearly Tony had no idea that Littles were very much ‘right now’ personalities. “Tasha’s getting dressed an’ we gotta tell Mister Bruce!”

“Tell me what?” 

“We’re going swimming it seems,” Tony’s face was impassive and Bruce blinked in confusion. 

“Oh?”

“Oh.” Tony nodded in confirmation. “Tiny Clint has demanded it.”

“Imma big boy,” Clint insisted immediately, eyes sparkling with defiance. “Imma big boy — tell ‘im Daddy!”

“You are definitely Daddy’s big boy,” Phil soothed, carding his fingers through his hair. “Please don’t feel like you must.”

Clint noticed the robot picking up some knuts off the workshop floor and gasped. “Oh Agent,” Tony said a faux sweet tone. “Don’t you know that no one can force me to do anything?”

“I’ll be sure to let Pepper know,” Phil said and Tony baulked. 

Clint inched toward the sleek machine, fingers outstretched. The robot beeped and twirled to face him. The claw moved restlessly a moment before it gingerly closed on his hand. Clint squealed happily and the robot trilled. 

“Hey!” Tony barked and the robot withdrew it claw, zooming back to its original spot. “You knock ‘em over you clean ‘em up U. No socializing until your mess is tidied.”

“Can the ‘bot come swimming?”

“Only if you have a death wish.” Tony replied and the glares he received made him rethink the reply. “I mean, it would break him Barton.”

“My name is Clinton Francis Barton.” Clint was giddy that someone other than Daddy and the Ghost Eye knew his last name. 

Tony wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything but since when did Littles make much logical sense? “I know.”

Clint eyes went impossibly larger as he seemed truly stunned by that. “Daddy,” he said in a carrying whisper. “He knows.”

“He sure does, bug. Let’s give them some space to get ready and get you dressed for the pool.” Phil put a hand on his shoulder, gently trying to reel him in from whatever dangers lurked in this very unsafe space.

Clint looked torn between quizzing Tony on what else he knew and on the robot on the other side of the lab he’d yet to meet. “I take it you’ve been dragged into this as well, Cap?”

“I think it’s a swell idea.” Steve replied immediately.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh right, how could I forget?”

Clint tilted his head up to look at his Daddy. “We gonna go swim?”

“Yes, little bird.”

[oOoOo]

Clint practically sprinted to his room, blatantly ignoring Phil telling him not to run.

He yanked open the closet door and tugged at the drawer where his swim shorts were kept. Daddy came in shortly after and cleared his throat. “Daddy help!” Clint didn’t want to miss the pool. 

Tasha was probably in the water already and he was missing out! Reaching around him, Phil pulled out the purple shorts adorned with rubber duckies, a swim diaper and the awful, horrible, terrible plastic snap over. Clint’s excitement faded and he drew away. He wasn’t a baby and if Tasha saw she would think he was. And so would everyone else. “Come on, little bird.” Daddy beckoned him towards where he was waiting and Clint pushed out his bottom lip. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Imma big boy I don’t need a diaper.”

“We talked about this,” Phil knelt down in front of him. When Clint flinched away, he let him. “You don’t want to have an accident in the pool right? That will be very icky for everyone.”

“I won’t!” His bottom lip trembled and Clint sucked in a deep breath, blinking away tears. “I’m big.”

“You are a big boy, Clint. You’re the biggest little boy in the whole world,” Daddy indulged. “So I need you to be my big boy and get ready so we can swim.”

“E’rybody is gonna see,” Clint wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “They won’t know imma big boy and Tasha won’t play with me!”

Natasha, as a neutral, had the ability to adapt to other people. It was a skill that had been tailored and exploited in the Red Room but Phil felt she was doing more good with it than bad nowadays. 

It was helpful in interrogations. A dropping sub could be dealt with thanks to her ability to act as a Domme in mere seconds, and visa versa. If a Dom felt they were assisting a dropping sub they would say anything. Phil would never have asked her to act as a Little for Clint’s sake but she had taken it upon herself one day when he was particularly pleading to have her play hide and seek. If anything Phil expected her to act as a Caretaker but instead she had put on the cheeriest (though chillingly so) smile and bounded over to ‘Uncle Phil’ to ask. 

Thus Tasha was introduced into Clint’s life.

Phil hadn’t addressed it with her, it was best left as is. “I’m sure Tasha won’t think any less of you.”

“She will!” Clint wailed, big tears rolling down his cheeks. Phil’s heart broke. “Daddy please!”

“I’m sorry.”

Clint was still whimpering sadly when the wet diaper was removed and the new one taped up. The plastic pants did stir up a whole new fuss that involved Clint kicking his feet angrily. “You will be spending the day in the time out chair, Clint and everyone will have fun at the pool without you.”

With a surly pout Clint allowed the offensive item. He brightened up when he was in his swim trunks and grabbed his arm floaties. 

“I gotta show Tasha an’ Steve I know how’da puppy paddle!”

Phil smiled and helped him slide his arms into the purple and blue floats. “I’m sure they’ll be very impressed,” Phil tapped the tip of Clint’s nose and the Little giggled. “Sunscreen and then pool.”

“Okay Daddy. I can rub it in, cos I’m big.”

Clint in an older Little mindset was just as endearing as when he was younger and clingy. Though Phil was already missing the cuddles he would have been getting. He had to appreciate Clint’s willingness to meet the team, keeping to their floor each weekend grew boresome. When Clint was thoroughly protected from the UV rays, they started down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all your patience. Comments really motivated me to keep writing so if you have anything you’d like to leave please feel free. Thank you all so much again for reading.


	3. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has the pool day he always wanted. 
> 
> A day Phil never expected, comes.

The excitement to swim lasted until they reached the pool. The terrace had high walls for safety and privacy and very nice masonry around the massive pool. It seemed a pity something so nice was used so little but seeing the team there made Phil proud. Though it had been Clint’s request, seeing everyone take time away from daily demands to relax helped soothe his caretaking instincts. 

Clint hugged his waist and hid his face in the back of Phil’s shirt. 

There was a table ladened with snacks and food and Phil noticed one end was tailored toward Clint with juice boxes and fruit cut in shapes with little goldfish crackers. He appreciated the effort immediately and Clint didn’t even notice as he scurried toward Steve, pace just slower than what Phil would call running. 

“Steve!” He yelped as he crashed into the soldier who paused his conversation with Tony who was dressed more for a high fashion beach visit than sitting around his private pool. “I can puppy paddle wanna watch?”

“I would love to!” Steve said mirroring his excitement.

Clint looked around wildly. “Is Tasha gonna play?” 

Natasha has yet to emerge despite her head start but Phil soothed Clint with a pat on the head. “You can ask when she arrives. Are you ready to get in?”

With a jubilant nod, Clint took a step toward the edge. Phil extended a hand toward the hearing aids and Clint froze up. “Daddy please,” he whispered, pleading. “I don’t want the Quiet. I wanna talk to e’rybody!”

Phil’s chest tightened with sympathy. Of course his Little Bird just wanted to play with everyone but an ear infection would spoil his day and the upcoming mission this week. Phil’s choice was easy enough to make but explaining it to the Little giving him the best darn puppy eyes of the day, it was a trial. “I don’t want my favorite Clint to have sore ears,” Phil knelt down to look Clint in the face better.

The gleeful look shattered to broken-heartedness and Phil wrapped him up tightly in a hug. “I don’t want the Quiet, how’m’I gonna tell Tasha and Steve and Mister Tony and Mister Bruce!”

Phil was thoughtful a moment before he addressed the two men politely pretending the meltdown wasn’t taking place. “Can you sign?” 

“I’m personally offended you even need to ask,” Tony’s nose went into the air as he rested a hand near the arc reactor. “Can you sign?! I’m Tony Stark.” 

Phil and Steve always had more patience for Tony’s theatrics than others did, in part due to their biological understandings of childish behaviors. He already knew Steve could so he smiled brightly at Clint. “You can talk with your hands, Little Bird.”

“I gotta swim with my hands Daddy or I’ll sink.” Clint poured at him. “I won’t put my head under. I pinkie promise Daddy!”

What kind of Daddy would Phil be if he refused a pinkie promise? “Alright, bug. But if you go under you’re going to have some sore ears.”

“I won’t get m’ears wet.” The smile was back and Phil wanted to pinch his cherub cheeks but he was Daddy’s Big Boy today so Phil has a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated. “Can I get in now? Puh-lease Daddy!”

“Okay,” Phil relented and he rolled up his pant legs.

Steve had emailed him prior to let him know he would stay in the water with him so Phil could go assemble some documents on his tablet. Work and play rarely got done at the same time but with this help from the team, Phil was feeling very comfortable splitting his attention with Clint. Phil walked him down the first two steps, the water warm and just perfect (exactly as expected) and Steve approached immediately holding his arms out.

Phil tried hard not be bothered by the excited squeal Clint let out when he saw the gesture and understood he could jump into his arms. Jealousy was unbecoming and sharing was, as they learned last time, caring. Clint deserved to be loved by everyone but that didn’t make him any easier to share. Phil sat on the side of the pool, soaking his feet and ankles in the nice warm water. Steve was twirling Clint around in wide lazy circles making him giggle gleefully. 

Clint wasn’t often in a big headspace like this and the rarity of it only added to ugly feelings of jealousy Phil got, seeing another Caretaker caring for his Little. “It’s something else,” Tony said and Phil glanced at him.

He was lounging in a deck chair, looking at the same scene. “He’s very sweet,” Phil replied. “He’s not normally so hyper — I’m not sure what put him in the mood to swim but… Thank you for accepting his invitation. It means a lot to the both of us.”

“Oh no Coulson, don’t get all sappy on me. I just meant this side of Barton… It feels weird calling him Barton.” 

“Again!” Clint demanded when Steve ended the circles, looking a bit dizzy. Of course Steve did so immediately — he too had difficulties saying that two letter word to such an adorable face. 

“Call him Clint,” Phil suggested with a small knowing smile. He could tell Tony was warming up to the idea and to Clint. And that he was coming to him was another good sign of comfort. “He really is harmless.”

“I don’t expect him to try and assassinate me when he’s like that.” Tony said dryly. “Just… It’s an adjustment.”

“It is,” Phil agreed. 

•• •• •• ••

Natasha appeared about thirty minutes in. Phil has settled on a deck chair and began the tedious process of picking through a pile of articles with questionable leads for any possible red flags for extraordinary occurrences or peoples. 

She wore a black two piece that had Tony whistling playfully while Bruce stammered a hello. Steve smiles politely and Clint was...quiet. Everyone seemed to notice the sudden quiet, even Natasha who put a hand on her hip and look down at the fluffy haired Little. True to his word thus far, he hadn’t gotten his head wet. Steve was very careful as well. 

“Cat got your tongue mister?” 

“You got a booboo.” Clint said quietly and his thumb slipped into his mouth. “Gotta get a band aid from Daddy.”

The scar on her hip was still angry red, as fresh as scars got. It was the first time Clint had seen it, regardless of headspace and Phil could see how hard it was hitting him. “It’s all healed, see?” Natasha brushed a thumb over the gunshot wound. “Let’s play a game.”

“Does it hurt?” Clint paddled his way near her with Steve as his shadow. His eyes were wide with curiosity but he frowning. He reached up to touch it and, unexpectedly, Natasha allowed it. “Did Daddy put a bandaid on it before? And kiss it better?”

“Of course he did. He makes sure all our ouchies are okay. Now do you want to play or not?” Natasha smiled indulgently at him and Clint perked up, apparently convinced.

“Yes! Mister Tony play too? And Mister Bruce? Daddy? Steve?”

He looked around hopefully and Phil was prepared to set the tablet aside when Natasha dismisses it. “How about you, me, Bruce and Steve?”

Bruce seemed startled at the invitation and Tony peered suggestively over his sunglasses. Bruce flushed and adjusted his glasses. “I-if you insist and Clint doesn’t mind…”

“You gotta play! Tasha says so,” Clint flopped backwards into Steve’s arms and kicked water and Natasha who dove in gracefully and came up to tickle Clint’s belly until he squawked. 

Bruce found his way into the pool, standing off to the side as if he wasn’t sure if he belonged. Phil knew he had work to do if he was to then a team of individuals into a family but he also feared overstepping. As the team handler and as Caregiver in general, seeing them come together certainly pleased him and a smile crept across his face though it was wiped off by the urgent marked email that came through.

Phil feared an attack, something would demand their next few weeks to focus on saving the world while lives were put at risk. What he read was much, much worse. It wasn’t from Nick, it was from the counsel. 

“Steve.” Phil cut into the giggling and playful splashing between Clint and Bruce who seemed to be warming up toward the Little. “I need to step out.”

Clint squealed in objection as Bruce, hearing the tone, cut off their game and focused in on Phil who was stony faced. “Okay, I’ll get him lunch and down for a nap.”

Phil had known Steve wouldn’t have a problem with it and while jealousy made him want to forget the news just dropped on him, he couldn’t. Not when it was going to affect his team and Shield and most of all, his Clint. 

“No nap!” Clint gasped immediately. “Imma big boy.”

Phil was stiff with anger, conflicted with a lump in his throat as Steve brought the pouting boy to the edge of the pool for a proper goodbye. “I don’t need a nap,” Clint told him, blissfully unaware of what had happened. “Imma big boy, right?”

“You’re a big boy,” Phil agreed, a bit hollowly. “But you still need your rest.”

•• •• •• ••

“It’s a privacy violation.” Phil insisted for the umpteenth time, standing in a circle of the holograms.

None of the council members seemed remotely concerned about that, disregarding him with an uninterested ‘hmm’ and ‘thank you for concerns Agent’ while Nick tried to muscle over reason. An agent had died as a result to untreated shock from an internal injury mistaken for a Drop when when the agent was a Neutral. There was a move for all agents to display their Class openly. 

Maybe it made sense but Phil was thinking about Clint, about how difficult it had been for him to open up the people he trusted most in this world. This would be full exposure for him — not to mention the re-evaluations of field readiness they wanted to impose to assure agents were field ready. It was a step back, a gross injustice for the classes that already fought hard to be treated equally. 

And as the council voted, not one person seemed swayed by Phil’s desperate explanation of protecting their agents through respecting their right to keep their Class private. Even though Bethany Vancouver, the only sub on the panel seemed more sympathetic than the rest, there was not one vote against the movement. 

As the holograms vanished Phil exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. He needed to call Steve and check up on a Clint… He needed to find a way to tell Clint that his greatest insecurity was going to be public. As an Avenger, the media would take a hold of it within hours. 

“I’m sorry,” Nick rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

“He’s going to hate me.” Phil said simply. No matter what they’d gone through the past few weeks, it was going to crumble once the tabloids began to remind the world how dangerous it was to have a Little in danger. 

Clint, who has fought so very hard, was nowhere near done fighting. “At first, he will but he’ll understand. But maybe it’ll be for the best. We can help kill your boy safe, Cheese.”

Phil wanted to storm away from the suggestion that he couldn’t do it alone but maybe Nick was right. Playing a guessing game with someone’s Class has taken a life and that was one life too many. 

“I hope so,” Phil said dejectedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had sudden inspiration to sorta change the direction this was going in a bit. So I updated the story summary. I hope you all enjoyed.


	4. Uncle Steve and the Sads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets some shocking news, Steve tries to make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a little!clint and uncle Steve heavily chapter with a touch of angst. I hope you like it.

As sad as Clint was to have Daddy leave, Steve didn’t let him feel down for a second, swinging him around in a circle. Clint giggled when he came to a stop in front of where Natasha had emerged from a dive from the shallow end all the way to the deep end. Her hair hung in a heavy tendrils, streaming water down her back. Even waterlogged, Natasha was pretty. 

Bruce was loosening you a bit, setting his water speckled glasses to the side of the pool. Tony watched it all closely, critically perhaps, but mostly with curiosity. 

“Are you hungry?” Steve asked after the third round of Marco Polo. 

Clint bobbed his head eagerly, eyes sweeping over to the table. The juice boxes seemed particularly enticing because Steve had told him he wasn’t allowed to drink pool water (he tried twice but Steve’s sharp eyes had caught him and Bruce had explained that there were chemicals in the water — Tony had cut in proudly proclaiming it was nontoxic by his own hand; Steve still wouldn’t let him drink it). 

“Juice box!”

Steve lifted him out of the pool, helping him slip the arm floaties off. Tony peered over his sunglasses, swirling amber liquid around a small glass. “Thank you,” Steve hadn’t expected this level of effort, especially when it was so abrupt.

Tony shrugged, as expected. Steve wondered why Tony was so reluctant to show outward effort. Clint skipped across the patio toward the table, humming the intro to some cartoon that Steve could never remember the name to under his breath. 

“So what had Agent running out of here?” Tony inquired.

“I’m not sure. Clint, let me help you.”

The Little turned around, cheeks bulging with cheese cubes. Natasha and Bruce were still in the water, deep in conversation. Clint made a muffled protest, a few half chewed cheese blobs falling out. Clint looked down at the mess and reached down, clearly intent on eating them again. 

Steve snatched a napkin and scooped them first. Clint mumbled a heated protest as Steve disposited in the refuse bin. “World’s greatest marksman,” Tony mused. 

While it didn’t have any real malice to it, Steve gave him a stern look. Clint was on his tiptoes, fingers stretched toward the mineral waters and craft beers sitting on ice. “Be nice.” Steve didn’t intend on scolding Tony but that was how it came out.

The genius held up his hands in defeat and nodded toward Clint who had given up on reaching the drinks purposely far back on the table and now was grabbing crackers by the handful. 

“I know you’re hungry but this is a snack, not lunch.” Steve filled a little plate with cheese, crackers and grapes that he cut in half then, after a moment of consideration, into fourths. 

Corralling Clint toward a chair, he crunched on a cracker he’d snatched and asked about Daddy’s absence. “Is Daddy gonna be home soon?”

“As soon as he can,” Steve promised. “Do you want apple juice or fruit punch?”

“Umm… Both!”

Steve smiled and grabbed an apple juice. Clint slurped it eagerly, kicking his feet a bit. Admittedly Steve was curious what had demanded Phil so suddenly but Phil was good about providing information he needed. Rarely did Steve find himself in the dark unjustly and when it came to protecting Clint during his most vulnerable, he was willing to step back from his duties as Captain America to fulfill those of Uncle Steve. 

After a few more fun filled hours in the pool, Clint was pruney and tired, content to float against Steve’s chest while he chatted about boring things Clint didn’t care much about all. His eyes felt heavy when Steve lifted him out though he did manage to whine that he wanted to play with Tasha and Mister Bruce more. Tony had gotten a call from Pepper and excused him an hour or so before Steve decided Clint no longer could wait for his nap. 

Jarvis informed Steve that everything would be picked up by staff although he still tidied things while Clint was wrapped up in beach towel with heavy lidded eyes. He didn’t fuss much through being changed into dry clothing and a fresh diaper, asking again when his Daddy would be back. The Little made a truly noble effort toward his pb&j and raisins, eating half his sandwich and most of his raisins before he fell asleep at the table. 

Phil came back halfway through naptime, deeply troubled about something he couldn’t disclose yet. “Is it Avengers related?” 

Perhaps Tony was rubbing off, Steve’s thirst for knowing was ever growing, especially with the way Phil deflected the questions with such a deep frown. 

“Everyone will know when it’s time,” Phil said, not quite short but certainly tired. “You don’t mind him finishing his nap here?”

“Of course not.” Steve would never mind Clint’s company, Big or Little, and certainly not when he was so cute, curled up in a ball with his thumb in his mouth and stuffed animal against his chest. 

Phil offered him a weary smile promising to back as soon as Clint woke up before he vanished, leaving Steve with no answers. 

[oOoOo]

Things tended to go wrong one of two ways for Clint. Either it was a slow car pile up of everything hitting him all at once or it was a crash landing of something particularly unpleasant. These were dealt with two very different ways as well. Big Clint would bitch and moan and make sure his displeasure was well known and expressed to his Handler and anyone he happened to encounter along the way. And Natasha, usually no less than three times per day the issue spanned. Little Clint was perhaps less dramatic because Little problems could be fixed easily and being Little was a (temporary) solution to all Big problems. 

In retrospect Phil asking to him have lunch his office ‘just because’ should have been a huge red flag. It would have been if Clint hadn’t grown so soft around him. All kindness was once looked at with suspicion but that didn’t occur to him as he munched on the sandwich from the really good deli Phil never went to from work because traffic was such a pain. It was so good he didn’t even notice the far too indulgent smile directed at him when Phil redirected him from eating his chocolate chip cookies before his cucumbers. 

“That definitely sounds exciting,” Phil said when Clint paused long enough to stuff his mouth full once more. “I can’t say that I love the idea of you testing these weapons. Tony’s idea of safe and mine are very different. And while these are fun they are not ours to use outside of the Tower, right?”

Using ‘ours’ instead of ‘yours’ was a Caregiver thing and at one point Clint was hyper aware of it. Somehow it turned from patronizing to common speak. Maybe that was a nod toward the way Littles were regarded but Clint didn’t even think about that much anymore either. In a way it was nice to have to analyze everything because he genuinely felt comfortable with Phil and even with the team knowing it was fine because Little Clint wasn’t leaving the Tower. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Clint almost brought up Natasha’s Widow Bites being SI tech but caught himself last minute and would live another day. “But y’know it doesn’t really make sense to have such effective weaponry at our disposal and not utilize it. Especially if it’s being offered at no charge to Shield — you should think about the taxpayers.”

Phil sat back a bit arching his eyebrows at Clint who was biting off the skin around the cucumber disc. “That sounds like something Tony would say.”

“Mmhm,” Clint agreed.

“It sounds like exactly what Tony would say.” Phil picked his spoon. “Word for word.”

“Okay but it makes sense,” Clint pointed out. “Those R&D people are uncompetent at best.”

“I think you mean ‘incompetent’, Clint, and that’s not very nice. They work very hard to ensure that the weapons we use on our mission are well tested and safe before you see them. Tony doesn’t always do that.”

“Sometimes you have to take risks.” Clint echoed Tony’s confident tone very well and it seemed true enough. Somehow had to test out these things — Clint thought it was fun. “Maybe we could give it a try?”

“Maybe not,” Phil said immediately and then seemed to consider something. “Remember how you asked me about spending weekends with Steve?”

It seemed like such an abrupt topic change that Clint was honestly confused before he pieced together the meal and Phil’s tone. He bobbed his head after a moment in confirmation that yes, he recalled bringing it up. Steve didn’t have a Little so he helped Phil out whenever something extraordinarily important took his attention from Clint. 

That meant that something very important had come up. That meant Phil had to work. 

“I don’t need him,” Clint’s neck felt hot. He didn’t like talking about home stuff at work and he didn’t like talking about Little stuff at work either. This was both. 

“I’d feel a lot better if we could keep to the schedule,” Phil said in a very calm and fair tone. 

Clint wanted to pout and protest at once. He chose the former. “You’re not keeping to the schedule,” his tone was morose and his food suddenly didn’t taste so good. It tasted like deceit. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry Clint.” Which meant, it’s a secret and he wasn’t going to find out what was more important than him.

It was a childish way to think about it and Clint knew that but he couldn’t help but be bitter. Last weekend had been okay, he thought. His Little memories were usually hazy — like a dream. Steve was fun and Clint never had a bad time with him. He got treats and watched movies and had plenty of cuddles without the same strict rule set. He remembered swimming and spending the night with Steve when Daddy had to work. 

“Whatever.” Clint huffed and pushed the sandwich away from him a bit. Phil’s frown deepened. “It’s been ages since my last mission, you know.”

“You were in the field in Venice just a few weeks ago.” Phil was opening the wax paper bag where the cookies were which was totally not fair because Clint had to eat his entire lunch to get dessert. “But now you remind me, I haven’t gotten the recon list.”

“I don’t want paperwork, I want another assignment.” Clint griped and mentally added, ‘and you home with me this weekend’. 

“A lack of targets who need your intervention is a good thing, right?”

Clint sighed again, exasperated because of course it was a good thing but Clint was bored and there was no shortage of targets for anyone else. Also, Venice had been a piece of a cake. Literally, they were done in seventeen hours and Phil brought him to a pastry shop and got him a slice of cake while awaiting for extraction. 

“I want something new.” Clint said. “I know that whatever you’re doing is confidential but why can’t I come? A sniper is always handy, even if you don’t need them.”

“You have commitments.” It was a no-argument voice but oh well, Clint was in the mood to be difficult. 

“So did you.” A low blow. “C’mon Phil!”

Clint already knew the outcome of this: Phil didn’t give him special treatment at work because of his Classification and that meant he was going to whine his way onto a mission. If anything it made Phil even less likely to let him join. But Clint had already committed to whining about it. 

“It’s important to establish the new schedule and Steve is very excited to spend time with you.”

Clint crossed his arms and for a moment in his petulance considered knocking over his purple Gatorade. He’d done it once in this office, he couldn’t remember why but he knew that Daddy was not pleased with his choice and brought him home and made him sit in the corner for ages after giving him five swats on the bottom. It was one of those Little memories he had in perfect clarity and it came in handy for moments like this. Phil seemed to read his mind however and leaned over screwing the orange cap onto the bottle with a firm unwavering look of ‘you know better’. 

“I didn’t do nothin’,” Clint muttered looking down at what had been a good lunch. “I’m going to the range.”

“I don’t think you’re in a good place for that right now.” 

“I’m in a good place.” 

Clint wanted to kick Phil’s desk but he didn’t. He could keep the Little urges in check like he did every other day. Admittedly they were stronger the closer he got to Friday (and the end of the day in general), like his body already knew and was getting ready. 

“I wanna go see ‘Tasha.”

“Natasha is working with a new recruit this afternoon.” 

Clint’s pretty-dang-good Friday was turning into an awful day of everything Clint hated. “I’ll go by myself then.”

“How about you finish your lunch and get me that list and then we can assess?”

‘Assess’. Phil used that word over comms when Clint’s chatter got a bit too young and he wasn’t there to read his body language. 

“I’m not hungry and I’m Big.” 

“Well we can put it away in case you get hungry this afternoon.” 

Meaning Clint was supposed to stay in this stupid office doing stupid paperwork. He could get up and just walk out — would Phil chase him down and reprimand him at work? Clint didn’t think so but the idea of it had his heart racing. The only way back into Phil’s ‘Big’ graces was to prove to him that he really wasn’t spiraling (he wasn’t, right?) and actually act Big. 

So Clint drew himself up and wrapped the sandwich remainder up as neatly as he’d gotten and passed the traitorous food back to Phil to stow in the mini fridge by the wall. The desk was wiped down and cleaned of crumbs and the paperwork Clint had lying out on his own desk collecting dust was set out. 

“I’m here if you need any help.”

Clint wrote his name and glanced at his phone for the date. Phil was typing away, probably preparing for the upcoming secret mission, so Clint rested the pad of his finger over the sensor to wake it up. 

“That doesn’t look like paperwork, mister.”

Clint’s index finger froze over where he was typing a message to Natasha about Phil’s trip. If anyone had details it would be her. He quickly hit send and locked the phone. He filled out first line before the phone buzzed against the desk. Phil met his eyes over the laptop and Clint grinned. “Whoops. I’ll put it on silence.”

He unlocked the phone and his stomach dropped in disappointment. 

N: classified

Not even a capital letter. Clint felt brushed aside and further betrayed. “Tasha is going.”

“You’re supposed to be working on your overdue recon, not looking for information about an op you’re not on.” Phil held out his hand and Clint pulled the phone closer to his body. “Clint, don’t be difficult please.”

“I’m not being difficult! She’s going and I’m not and that isn’t fair.” 

“It’s not possible for you to go on every mission, bug, but I know you want to. And I know it’s frustrating to not know things sometimes.” 

Clint made a noise of disbelief. “You know everything,” he pointed out and Phil smiled. “And not all missions just the ones you go on.”

“I wish you could.”

“Then let me!” Clint’s head tilted back in his anguish completely on his own. Phil patted the back of his hand. “You’re my Handler, not Tasha’s. It isn’t fair.”

“I know it’s not fair but I am the Assistant Director to these entire organization Clint. I wish all my time could be spent with you but unfortunately for us both, it’s not exactly possible right now. But, you get to have the weekend with Steve!”

“Yeah,” Clint didn’t mind the ‘weekend with Steve’ part it was the weekend without Daddy aspect that was troubling him. Plus the secret op. “How long?”

“I’ll be back on Sunday afternoon if everything goes according to plan. Maybe Monday or Tuesday at the absolute latest but Steve — “

Clint gaped. “That’s more than just the weekend Phil! This is a big op isn’t it?”

“Clint? I’ve told you all I can. Let’s focus on how you’re feeling — your fingers are in your mouth.”

Clint hadn’t even realized he was sucking on the knuckle of his index finger until it was pointed out to him. Usually it was his thumb but that wasn’t a main concern for the moment. “I don’t want you to go away all that time! It’s too long.”

There was an urge to throw himself into Phil’s arms and another to run in the opposite direction to avoid any chances of further hurt feelings by being left behind. “It’s a long time to be apart,” Phil agreed with a heavy regret in his voice. “You know, if there was anyway I remain here with you, I would?”

His Little side rejoiced with that but his Big side felt a surge of anger. “I’m not asking for you stay behind. I want to go.”

“And I’m saying, as your Handler, no.” Phil was quiet a moment while Clint felt the sting of that refusal. “It’s above your clearance, Clint and that’s all I’m saying on it.”

Clint was confused for a moment and then felt like the Earth had dropped out beneath his feet. “Natasha is a higher Clearance Level than me.” Clint felt winded, like he’d just toppled off a building much higher than expected. “That’s why you’re boxing me out.”

“No,” Phil’s voice was soft. “I’m not boxing you out Clint. I’m following protocol.”

“It’s not fair.” Clint’s throat felt raw. His eyes prickled uncomfortably but he wasn’t going to cry. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t. 

“We’re not talking about it anymore, Clint. I’m sorry but it’s Classified and you knowing is already a toeing a line that typically would come with repercussions.” 

Clint wasn’t even supposed to know the op existed. That meant it was more than one lousy clearance level above him. It felt like the moment before hitting the ground, but a suspended state that somehow hurt more than the crushing force of his body hitting asphalt. 

The terse discussion with Natasha on the treadmills suddenly made sense. It had been there, right in front of him, but he was too stupid to see it. 

“Clint,” Phil said softly and he flinched away. “It might only be a few days but I know that Steve has plenty of fun things planned. You always have fun.”

“...’kay,” murmured Clint, too numb to say anything else. 

Phil was trying to catch his eyes and avoiding it was easier than expected. Clint wasn’t sure what hit him hardest: that it had been so obvious for so long and somehow he’d blinded himself to it or that he was supposed to sit back and take it quietly now that he knew. The Big feelings were heavy and he wanted it all to go away but — that was why, wasn’t it?

Biology had bested him and it was hitting him all at once. 

He picked up his phone, staring at the message. It wasn’t fair that he was blindsided by two of the people he trusted most. Clint didn’t realize he was touching his badge until the hard edge pressed into thumb. 

“Was I demoted?” 

Phil moved some files aside and that said plenty. Clint rose to his feet and started toward the door. “Clint, we need to talk about this.” Phil sidestepped in front of the door and Clint stopped short. “As soon as I get back. You’re upset, I’m going to have Steve bring you home.”

Clint nodded his head. He didn’t trust himself to speak, unsure if he would shout at Phil or just slump to the floor in a childish bit of a rage at how wildly unfair it was. His Big side was torn between going through every reason Clint might had been demoted and all the reasons he shouldn’t have been. Clint let Phil take him  
back to the desk and somehow his arms tangled around him. His Little side was there, aware that something bad had happened. His Big side couldn’t comprehend it any better. 

It just hurt. 

When Steve came in Clint tucked himself under the Soldier’s arm, face wet with tears and pressed Steve’s side. The soft sound of Phil and Steve speaking faded away as Clint inhaled the clean smell of detergent and Steve, like Daddy, made everything better. Steve’s arm around his shoulders was firm, a tight comforting squeeze that was just shy of a hug. Clint knew he had to pull himself together so he could get to the car.

But… Everything was jumbled up, a mess of conflicting emotions and thoughts that didn’t make sense because he didn’t know what headspace he was in. Clint just wanted to go back to not knowing. 

[oOoOo]

“I think this is the best you’re going to get him.” Phil said softly over the quiet shuddering sobs. “I didn’t want to tell him this way — not with so much going on — but he’s too smart for secrets.” 

Steve hummed eyes blazing with protectiveness that Phil felt for. He had his own worries about it. Clint was going to hate him as his Handler, possibly even as his Caretaker. Doing what was best didn’t always line up with pleasing a Little but it had been done. Captain Rogers clearly had questions but now wasn’t the time to demand answers about why it was done. 

Phil needed to get on the Bus and Clint needed time to adjust and understand. It pained Phil to leave him like this but the mission was not something that could be put on hold and with the world in jeopardy, Phil had to act. It didn’t make it any easier to see Steve lead him toward the back exit. The second Clint was out of sight, Phil began to miss him. 

Phil really hoped Steve got him a cup of tea to help him relax and go into his Little headspace easier. He didn’t want both sides of his Clint to experience what Phil was certain was a very hard thing to be told. Then Phil put the situation in the back of his mind and sat down at his desk finishing up the briefing packets. 

It wouldn’t matter what Clearance Level Clint was if all life on earth was eradicated. 

[oOoOo]

Clint sat stubbornly on Steve’s couch, looping the shattering moment over and over again to keep his Little side suppressed. The anger was key he realized and he harped on it. 

Steve put in a truly effort at getting his mind off of it but Clint crossed his arms and grit his teeth until Steve backed off seeming a bit beaten down. Clint didn’t know what to do and he was as afraid of overreacting as he was of underreacting. Steve made pizza bites for dinner, no doubt to try and get him into a Little headspace. 

Clint just glowered at his plate, refusing to answer Steve’s questions. He had to hand it to Steve — he didn’t get upset at all. Deep down he felt guilty, he knew how much this meant to them and whether Clint cared to accept it, he needed this time. Steve didn’t push however and Clint had to appreciate that. Even though he was fuming, knowing his messages to Natasha would go unanswered and any messages to Phil would get only unsatisfactory replies, if he got one tonight at all. 

“It’s getting pretty late,” Steve commented nonchalantly as the TV show went to commercial break. “After this how about we head to bed?”

Clint gave a heated huff in reply and crossed his arms in a ‘make me’ gesture. He too keyed up to even think about sleeping. Steve made an impressive effort with the guest room which, Big Clint knew was due to his Caregiver need to have a space ready for a Little. He wanted to play with them all but he stubbornly squashes down those needs, trying to stay vigilant. 

Something was happening, something that Phil was keeping hidden and Natasha was in on. Steve, Clint wasn’t so sure of. He was fluttering anxiously in the room, apologizing for everything he didn’t think fit Clint’s headspace. As much as Clint wanted to throw him a bone and let him know that really it wasn’t him, he was too busy being grumpy. He flopped defiantly on the bed in his boxers, kicking the green space ship pjs to the floor with the diaper he wasn’t going to wear. 

The pjs felt awfully soft on his foot but he wasn’t going to let himself slip. Not when he needed to figure out why he was in the dark and why Phil would… His throat felt thick, his fears of being inadequate were real despite Phil’s assurance. He had thought being told he was good enough had been honesty but clearly it wasn’t. 

“Clint, you’ve got to get dressed for bed.”

“No.” 

“Clint,” Steve said again, a bit less soft.

“No!” Clint had no reason to yell but it felt good. “No! No! No! No!”

He beat his feet and fists against the mattress, shaking his head furiously as the emotional swell within him reaching combustion. Tears burned as they ran down his cheeks and his throat hurt from screaming. Steve knelt beside him, carefully wrapping him up but always so wary of hurting him. Clint felt his fists strike Steve’s chest but the super soldier didn’t even wince. Chances were it didn’t even hurt but Clint froze up.

Daddy says hitting was not nice and he had done a not nice thing to Steve. 

“It’s okay,” Steve seemed startled as he cut off mid shriek. “Clint, it’s okay.”

“I hurted you,” Clint whimpered, heaving a shivering breath. 

Steve pulled him into his lap and cradled him a bit. Clint hadn’t been held like this except by Daddy but he didn’t mind, pressing his face into Steve’s neck. “You didn’t hurt me but seeing you sad is hurting my heart.”

“Sad,” Clint echoed, slipping fully. He was sad. He didn’t know why but he was. “Sad.”

His head ached from crying and he felt utterly drained as he sucked on his thumb. “I know sweetheart. I know you’re sad.”

Steve was a good Uncle, the best (and only) actually. But Uncles made the time when Daddy was away fun, they didn’t know to make sads Clint didn’t understand better. “I think a nice warm bath with lots of bubbles might help, what do you think?”

Clint was quite certain nothing could fix it but with a little sniffle thought it couldn’t make his sads worse.


	5. trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is determined to find the cause of Clint’s upset, Tony is eager to help and Phil just wants to fix things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and lovely comments. They really help me write! I hope you enjoy the update!

Visitors in the lab were always welcome. Before the team, when his passion turned to a coping mechanism he used it to hide and he hated when people stepped into his safe space unannounced. Now people didn’t need special codes to come in unless Tony was feeling particularly brooding or was working with something exceptionally unstable. But Bruce was good at making Tony see reason when his ideas got a bit too big. 

But today he was tinkering with his control panel, trying to cut down the response time for his commands when using satellites rather than his own hotspots. He saw Steve stepping out of the elevator and the glass doors to the lab slid open.

“How’s it hanging, Cap?” Tony set aside his project long enough to read Steve’s mood. 

The guy wore his emotions on his sleeve more often than not but the trouble storming in his big ol’ American blues was a dead give away. “I know that sometimes you…” Steve trailed off, looking away seeming a touch ashamed. “Do things. Do things you’re not supposed to with uh, Shield stuff.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out exactly where Steve was going with this but Tony liked to have fun. He leaned forward, face serious. “What are you saying Steve?”

He got a pinched look in return that made Tony feel a bit guilty though he brushed it off with a short waving his hand to make the holographic screens come up. “I can’t believe you’re actually asking me to hack into Shield. Agent is going to give me another very firm lecture.”

Tony didn’t mention that those lectures bothered him a bit because well, he was doing it for a friend. It didn’t take long to break into the server though they had redone the security to something almost adequate since Tony last peeked into the organization’s secrets. 

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was serious.” How Steve could always sound so scolding when defensive would never cease to amaze Tony. 

“I’m not questioning, just appreciating.” Tony grinned as ‘access granted’ lit up on his screen. “Now what am I looking for exactly? Threats? Plans? Something to do with the Serum?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. “Whatever happened on Saturday.”

Tony hadn’t forgotten about Phil’s sudden leave from the kid’s pool party but it hadn’t really piqued his interest much either. The somber expression on Steve’s face changed that immediately. 

“Looks like a meeting was called,” Tony muttered eyes scanning the email before he pulled the next one. “And… I don’t know something administrative. It just says ‘administrative changes’ — looks like I gotta go a step above Coulson.”

“Fury doesn’t like it when you get into his computer, Tony.” Steve said immediately, palms smoothing his shirt a bit. It was a nervous habit that Tony had picked up on. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“You’re looking at Shield’s biggest beneficiary. They can only get so mad when they depend on my check.” Tony replied with a casual wave. 

Of course his earlier antics had been more about ensuring he caught the eyes of Fury and Coulson so he could be a part of the Avengers. A role better than Guy Who Signs Checks. This would get him in some hot water and with Pepper still in Germany dealing with a patent crisis (and not technically affiliated with the Avengers in anyway) she couldn’t really swoop in as rescuer. But for a friend it was worth it. 

Fury’s personal system was built a bit better and there were real time sensors going off the moment he got in giving him ninety seconds to gather as much as he could before every piece of Shield technology shut down for a security breach which was sort of, kind of, a very big deal. Steve didn’t need to know that however and Tony would deal with that after he satisfied the favor being asked of him. 

“Jarvis, capture everything,” he muttered and immediately his AI did so, downloading file after file of secrets Tony wasn’t meant to know (and actually didn’t care about at the moment).

Just after the downloaded completed, red letters announcing loss of connection popped up along with a beeping sound on the monitors that made Cap look around guiltily, as if expecting Fury to teleport right into the lab. 

“Jarvis, send em on a trip,” Tony muttered beginning to pour through the files for what was actually sought after while Jarvis set up a faux signal bounce for the agents to follow. Jarvis decided on a small village in Asia and Tony hummed his appreciation. 

“Nice going Jar.” 

Sure, he felt bad that whoever lived there would be interrogated and clueless as to why while the techs worked through Jarvis’ virus before realizing it was just a proxy. “Ah ha!”

Tony pulled up a stool and shifted the screens down as he got comfortable. “Let’s see, administration changes… All agents above Level Four must display name, agent number and Class on badge — what the fuck?”

“Class?” Steve ignored the foul word as he came close to the screen. “That’s new.”

“Uh looks like it was put into place...during the pool party. Go figure.” Tony’s curiosity doubled now as Steve looked deeply disturbed about something. “Care to let a guy in, Cap?”

“Phil demoted Clint and he’s…” Tony could see the ghost of sympathy pain in Steve’s eyes. It was plain to see how much he cared for the Little even if he wasn’t his own, and demotion sounded brutal. And also, uncalled for. 

“What’d he do?” 

“Nothing! He’s Little, that’s it. I don’t know why Phil would ever… He knows Clint better than this, he knows what this means to him and doing it without telling him…” Steve was pacing and muttering, two not so good signs of impending sessions with the bags in the gyms. 

Tony wasn’t sure what to do, toying with screens and reading the rest of the new requirements. It seemed a bit strange to him to suddenly care what those with Classes other than Neutral had to do in their daily lives but perhaps Littles had a it a bit harder than he expected. Tony opened an email from Agent Hill entitled ‘Gross Abuse of Rights to Privacy’ and got to enjoy three paragraphs and her spitting out why her class doesn’t define her as an agent. Fury’s response was less interesting, a ‘I understand your concerns but it’s out of my power’. Fury wasn’t the tippy top of Shield after all, it was a global organization and even Directors had to answer to someone. Tony had a feeling it was the Counsel mentioned frequently in emails to Phil from Fury. 

He also learned that Fury had a disturbing nickname for the Caregiver: Cheese. 

Sometimes he worried that Nick Fury might be human after all. 

“Alright, alright. Take a breath Cap.” Jarvis was running another faux signal bounce that Tony hoped they followed. “Looks like demoted him so that his Class could remain private.”

“He didn’t say that Clint. He just told him that he was demoted and he left — you can’t do that to a Little. He broke that little boy’s heart and then vanished.” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and Tony wondered if this was some sort of Caregiver meltdown. “Phil is a good Daddy for Clint. This is unusual but I… It makes me so angry, Tony.”

“Well sure Cap,” Tony said awkwardly watching the proxy land in some small town in Pakistan. “You wanna do right by the kid.”

“Of course! That is the first thing to be done for all caregivers. It’s more than a compulsion it’s ingrained in us. It’s part of our DNA. I just can’t understand why Phil would do this.” Steve stopped pacing and hung his head looking exhausted. “I just don’t understand Tony. Why are they doing this?”

Tony went back to scanning the text. “Looks like something happened. Agent name is redacted, of course. But looks like whoever they are died… That’s too bad. Uh, improper medical treatment due to improper Class identification looks like.” It wasn’t hard to make odds and ends of it from there. 

“So if Clint is a low enough Level then his Classification would still be private?”

“Looks like it. Seems like a Caretaker move.”

The way Steve’s nostrils flared made Tony think that perhaps there was a difference in opinion on that front. “Clint should be given a choice when he is in a mindset to understand,” Steve seemed frustrated and Tony strapped himself in for being ranted at. “To put Clint through that — to leave him so upset and so vulnerable because it is easier is not acceptable. In my day you’d call Caregivers like that pretty dang lousy actually.”

As far as Steve insults went ‘pretty dang lousy’ was right up there with all the colorful names Tony could think of. Tony had difficulty hiding his shock in the matter. His own Classification was open and well known, same as all the other Avengers save for Natasha and Clint but their names weren’t known to the public. Only their superhero titles were and never out of costume. They didn’t attend galas which Tony assumed was a Shield thing but maybe it had to do with Clint? 

“And to leave him in the dark.” Steve was pacing again, hands behind his back. He looked just as righteous as ever and Tony was curious to see how the Agent would react to his idol telling him he’d done something wrong. “If he was my Little…” 

“He’s not.” Tony reminded him because the last thing the team needed was Clint being tugged on by their leader and their Shield ambassador. 

“I know that.” The tips of Steve’s ears flushed a bit and he looked hard at the tools lying on the workbench. “Thank you for helping me.”

“No problem.” It would be a problem soon but that was something that Tony would deal with later. Once Fury’s one-eyed wrath cooled. “Good luck with the kid.”

•• •• •• ••

Clint woke up all warm and cozy in his room at Uncle Steve’s and he felt hollow inside. He didn’t have Chirp and his diaper was cold and wet and he wanted his Daddy.

He buried his face in the pillow that smelled like Steve and it was nice but it wasn’t right, and he cried. Immediately the door was open and a hand rested on his back moving in soothing circles while Steve hushed him softly. It was enough to stop the tears as he turned to tangle his arms around Steve as the super soldier rocked him gently. When Clint slipped his thumb in his mouth it was nudged out with the rubber tip of his purple Nook and he took it without complaint. The smooth motion of suckling on the soft silicon and the swaying motion calmed him. 

“You’re my Little Clinty today, hm?” Steve asked softly. 

Clint tucked his forehead against Steve’s neck, sniffling a bit in response. He hadn’t been this small in a very long time and Steve suspected it was to do with what Phil had dropped so cruelly on him. His anger at the other Caretaker couldn’t take full front when he was needed; caring for a Little was so easy, so basic to his biology that it was almost muscle memory despite never caring for a Little this young. There was no way of knowing how long Clint would be like this, if he’d snap out of tomorrow or Monday or if it would last until Phil returned from whatever it was he was doing. 

Steve carried him to the living room, the familiar flat tones of light brown and beige made him wish for simpler times. Before the war when he wanted nothing but a Little while knowing he never could take care of another when he could barely take care of himself. Now he had more complex issues than his health; he had concerns of safety and of time. Shield had pushed him toward finding an agent but it hadn’t felt right. 

It was cathartic to cradle Clint, to coo gently to him and feel that rush of endorphins and satisfaction from caring for a Little. A mental heaviness he had ignored for so long lessened as he murmured sweetly to Clint. Steve changed Clint who laid quietly looking absently around. When the fresh diaper was taped up and the sweet smell of baby powder lingered on the little Steve tickled his tummy. In return he got a smile around the Nook, and the softest and sweetest laugh Steve had the honor hearing. 

Toddler Clint was a rarity in general, far less energetic than the Little that Steve spent most of his time with but he was a treat to be around regardless of the somber reason for existing. It was easy for Steve to forget how furious he was when he was watching Clint clumsily stacking foam blocks and hearing the little sounds he made the pacifier that he was reluctant to spit out even for berry yogurt melts at snack time. It was a quiet day of cuddles and playtime that left Steve feeling increasingly empty. 

He’d been alone so long that these stolen moments with another Caretaker’s Little was starting to hurt more than it helped. Loneliness like this didn’t have a cure. So he smiled sadly down at Clint’s sweet sleeping face and with a heavy heart went to tidy up the living room. 

[oOoOo]

Clint woke up big and exhausted. 

He hardly had the energy to push the pacifier pressing against his cheek off the pillow. The walls were powder blue and he knew exactly where he was. The anger from before was gone and he felt hollow and defeated in a way he hadn’t quite experienced yet. 

Not when he was as good as dead in an alleyway, not when he was cornered by agents, not when he got his Classification. 

There was a glossy painted toy box in his line of vision. Red with a smiling elephant and balloons. Clint knew that inside were dolls and trucks and blocks and trains and everything that he wished didn’t excite him. Even now, feeling so bleak, there was a flicker of interest and Clint loathed it. As expected, Steve came to check on him, telling him that today was his to do as he saw fit but that he was, as always, welcome to stay. 

Clint knew that it was Steve being Steve but he couldn’t help but think that Little Clint was the only one worth something. The Big side of him had failed at his job, been demoted and had the startings of a rash from lying in a wet diaper for too long. Steve didn’t linger long, giving his shoulder a squeeze that might have been reassurance. 

Clint spent the morning in that spot, being grinned at by a box that mocked everything he was. The itching turned sharp prickles and then the stinging burn of the sort of rash that made Phil frown deeply and buy the special cream that was applied every hour. Clint hated that he recognized these things. That having diaper rash was normal for him now and that he had become so helpless unknowingly. 

“Clint,” Steve said when he came back. “You’re worrying me. I really need you to get up now. It’s not healthy to go all day without eating or drinking something and I don’t know if you’ve changed yet either.”

Clint’s eyes clenched shut. It didn’t help that he needed Steve to come in and care for him when he was Big — he was Big wasn’t he? The sound of Steve’s footsteps were muted on the carpet and the warmth of his skin made Clint want to curl up to him. Steve gently fixed his hearing aids and smoothed down his bed head. 

“I don't know where you’re at Clint. Should I try to call Phil?” Clint wasn’t sure if it was team leader Steve, friend Steve or caregiver Steve speaking but he didn’t care.

The mention of Phil had the ache in his gut double and he tightened his jaw. He wanted to refuse attention, to be left to sulk and be self destructive in peace. But he knew Steve better than that. He wouldn’t just turn away and allow him to be in a state of despair and in a horrible way — a way that reinforced how helpless he’d become — he was thankful for it. 

Steve tolerated his silence for a few moments of gentle comfort, softly stroking his hair and giving his arm small squeezes. Taking it upon himself to mobilize him, Clint was gently shifted into a sitting position as Steve peered at him anxiously. 

“I know what happened and I am so, so sorry. But we’re going to figure this out okay?”

Clint was Big and he wasn’t going to cry. But the room went a little blurry as he swallowed back a lump that grew in his throat. “I wasn’t good enough.” He said thickly.

Steve shook his head furiously. “No, Clint, no. That’s not why it happened. Phil — he was trying to protect you but the way he did it was… He didn’t go about it correctly.”

Clint sniffled a bit, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Shield is making it a requirement to have your class displayed on your badge if you’re above a certain clearance level. I think Phil demoted you because he knows how you feel about others knowing…not that I agree with him.”

Clint sat there, dumbstruck. Why wouldn’t Phil have just told him? Did he truly want him to suffer like this? Phil knew better than anyone else how much his job meant to him, how insecure he was, and how much this had affected him. 

“He didn’t tell me.” Clint’s hand twitched as he tried to push down the urge to suck to thumb. “W-why wouldn’t Phil just tell me?”

“He hasn’t told anyone. I don’t know if he’s allowed to.”

Phil was always a stickler for the rules but sometimes, at times like these, Clint wished he would have made an exception. Of course it meant that Steve had investigated it on his own and the fact he cared so much about Clint had him throwing his arms around him. 

“Oof,” Steve feigned the hug pushing him back and Clint felt a watery smile slipping across his lips as he snuggled his face against the soft fabric of his tee. “I missed your hugs all morning.”

Steve wrapped his arms around him, a brief squeeze that helped fill up the empty part from the morning with warmth. Steve sniffed quietly and then a hand slid down to pat his bottom. Clint’s face flushed and he pulled away, mortified that he hadn’t noticed. When he was Big he was supposed to recognize these things. 

“It’s okay,” Steve said immediately, like a messy diaper wasn’t disgusting to deal with. 

“Not okay,” mumbled Clint, cheeks dusted with color as he shifted back from reach. 

Steve hummed a bit but didn’t argue further on the matter. “Well, are you up for some food? We can go out somewhere, you’ve been cooped up here for a while.”

“Really?” Clint, when Big, split his time between the shooting range and Phil because they rarely had moments together when neither was working. 

“Absolutely. Whatever you’re in the mood for.” 

Clint wanted pizza, greasy and hot and delicious with sweet bubbly soda that Phil rarely let him indulge in because during most their outings he was Little. “Pizza,” Clint said immediately with a smile. “Please?”

“That sounds perfect. How about we get you changed before we go?”

“I can do it.” Clint insisted immediately, cheeks coloring all over again. 

“I know but Phil usually helps right? I don’t mind.” 

It was increasingly uncomfortable, the rash that he pushed to the back of his mind was starting to burn all over again and the cold ickiness pressed against his skin with every movement was intolerable. In some ways a messy diaper was worse than messy pants, though Phil never made him wait long before he was cleaned up. Steve had no doubt changed him but Little Clint didn’t have the same dignities Big Clint had. Any reassurance that his demotion was due to something outside of his actions was quickly overshadowed by the fact he deserved it for messing his pants while in an adult mindset and not even noticing. 

“I can do it,” Clint insisted, voice dropping to a whisper. “Please.”

The super soldier seemed to know when to step back because he nodded his head and got to his feet. “Alright. I’m going to get dressed. Meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes?”

Clint nodded, relieved for the moment of independence and a normal outing. Work schedules rarely allowed for such things but seeing as he was left behind, he figured he might as well keep busy versus sulking about it. Plus pizza tended to make things better. 

If he was late he knew Steve would come by and insist on helping which would make him feel helpless and Little again when he desperately needed more time Big to mull over the information Steve had given him. So he hurried though wiping himself up the best he could, which was admittedly more difficult than expected because he never really had to do this for himself anymore, and got changed to meet Steve. 

He ordered two big slices (Steve got four) and Steve got them a booth. His disguises were notoriously awful but somehow no one noticed him under the baseball cap and sunglasses. Clint was thankful he didn’t have to worry about disguises though his rash was increasingly painful. The walk over had been unpleasant, the material chafing over raw painful skin while his mind turned over Phil’s actions. 

He wanted to be angry but mostly he was just sad. Did Phil think he wasn’t capable of being Big enough to think it through? Did he think he was too stupid to make the right choice for himself? Was the demotion even the right choice? As much as Clint wanted to hide the Little part of him, squash it down until it went away forever, he wasn’t ready to give up being an agent. He needed to help people, it was what he loved to do and he was good at it — according to Phil and the rest of the world, he was. Or Hawkeye was at least.

“This pizza is super yummy,” Steve was halfway through his first slice while Clint was too distracted to do much more than peel off the pepperonis, which he stacked to the side to eat later. 

Clint was already clinging to his Big headspace so Steve’s tone was trying as he kicked his feet a bit. They thump-thump-thumped against the wood under the bench and Steve rested a hand on his arm. Clint shrugged it off, stilling his legs, and taking a deep breath. 

“I’m okay.” Clint said softly. 

Steve nodded, watching Clint take a careful bite of pizza. His fingers twitched toward the napkin dispenser but Clint beat him to it, wiping away the stray sauce on his cheek. It was a small triumph but it helped him feel a bit more secure Big. 

•• •• •• ••

Phil arrived late that evening, exhausted, troubled and eager to see Clint. Instead he was met a disapproving super soldier who seemed to be the cause (indirectly) of the hacking that led Shield techs on a long hunt. Fury was back to declaring Tony a threat to national security and Phil was trying not to get upset at Steve’s tone. 

“ — broke his heart,” Steve went on, color filling his cheeks as he got more and more worked up. “And what’s worse…”

“Phil?” Clint had his bow in hand, a bit sweaty from clearly spending time down in the shooting range.

“I’m so sorry Clint. I was going to explain it to you — properly but it was an emergency.” Phil began but Clint wrapped his arms around tightly, the way he did when he was feeling very small and frightened. “It’s okay Little Bird, Daddy’s back.”

Clint’s shoulders began to shiver as he cried, and Phil’s heart ached. Clint tended to regress whenever he experienced intense emotion he couldn’t process and knowing that he was the cause made Phil feel like a failure. Steve was still stony faced, his stern expression promising that the conversation was not over, though he didn’t carry on. Phil ran a hand over of Clint’s back. 

“It’s okay,” he assured him. “You has fun with Steve didn’t you? Oh, I hate seeing my favorite Clint crying. Can you look at me, buddy?”

Clint just pressed his teary, snotty face against Phil’s stomach and held onto this shirt tightly. Phil was exhausted, a long plane ride, a long debriefing, and an even longer meeting with the counsel and he still had a pile of paperwork to go through but all of that would wait for now. Clint cried in the elevator and all the way into the apartment. He quieted whenever Phil settled onto the couch with him, hushing him. 

“‘mma bad boy,” were the first words that Clint said and Phil shook his head. 

“No, no you’re not. You’re perfect and I’m sorry if I made you think that. You are my best boy.”

Clint made a soft noise that was neither agreement or disagreement. Phil just held him tighter. When his tears were dried and his headspace Big, he pulled back. 

“Why did you tell me what was really going on?” Clint sounded hurt and that gutted Phil more than having his Little sobbing into his chest all this time. 

“I’m sorry Clint.” Phil took his hands and thanked whoever it was above them that Clint didn’t pull away. “I never meant to hurt you. Things happened so quickly and I didn’t want to put you in a position where you’d have to make such a big choice so suddenly.”

Clint looked fixedly over his shoulder, blue eyes clouded in thought. Phil was thinking the worst: this was a violation of trust that Clint could not forgive. “Thank you for trying to protect me,” Clint finally said, a bit of hollow humor in his somber tone. “But you did a pretty lousy job of it.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Phil couldn’t help brushing strands of hair from Clint’s eyes. His little bird would need a haircut soon. “Are you positive about this?”

“Guess I don’t have a choice. Steve said something about the council?”

Phil’s head gave a nasty throb at the reminder of the policy change and the current fiasco with Stark. “Yes, it’s a mess,” Phil admitted. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, Clint.”

“I’m not helpless, Phil. I know that it’ll… It’ll be hell, let’s be real. But I gotta deal with it eventually right?”

Any other time Phil would have been pleased at Clint’s confidence, or at least his steps towards confidence, but he felt like he had wronged his Little and that wasn’t something easily forgiven. 

“Are you sure?” Phil had to be positive; he couldn’t mess up again. 

“Yes,” Clint stressed it a bit, a ghost of a smile helped lift the weight from Phil’s chest. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too. Days aren’t the same without seeing my favorite Clint.”

Color crept up Clint’s cheeks but his smile was both bashful and pleased. “I’m your only Clint,” he reminded him. 

“Yes you are.”


	6. Acceptance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets his new badge and it goes...exactly as well as he expected it to

“You should have told me,” Phil fussed adding more of the dreaded rash cream onto Clint’s very irritated skin.

Clint winced, wanting you shy away from the initial burn and melt into the resulting soothing. “ ‘s not so bad,” he mumbled as he had for the last two days.

There was still work to be done between, trust to be mended but Clint couldn’t fault Phil for doing his job or what he had thought was best. Steve wasn’t nearly so forgiving and Tony was in trouble by the sounds of it. 

“Steve should have checked, Big or Little.” Phil frowned down at his handiwork. “Maybe every thirty minutes for tonight? I don’t want you going back to work in pain.”

“It isn’t bad.” It was maybe a little tiny lie but Clint thought it was okay seeing as he really really wanted to go back. 

Plus having his cuddle time interrupted was just another worry to add to his already lengthy list. He didn’t know how he’d be perceived, wasn’t certain of what others would think and say to him. He wasn’t completely comfortable with the fact he was a Little and he had a haunting suspicion that others would zero in on that. The last thing Clint wanted to do prove them right by crumbling under the pressure or hiding behind his Caretaker — who may not be allowed to be his Handler if people kicked up too much fuss. 

Clint was trying not to think about the worst case scenarios but the snuck on him regardless. 

Phil finally let him and Clint tried his best to enjoy the fact that he was home. Tomorrow would come whether he liked it or not. Unfortunately it didn’t calm his mind like had hoped it would. 

He settled in under Phil’s arm on the couch and tried to absorb as much comfort as he could, while he was still able. 

[ oOoOo ]

Agents were already wearing the new badges when Clint arrived. 

Natasha already had hers somehow. The only change on the front was the color block behind their names and the Classification typed in smaller font below it. Hers was now navy blue, nearly black, with a neat ‘N - Neutral’ tucked neatly between Romanoff, Natasha. 

“If anyone else was staring at my chest like that, I’d hit them.” Natasha said lightly and Clint’s cheeks colored and he looked up from where the badge was pinned. “Not so bad, right? The pop of color is nice.”

Clint’s stomach felt weighed and he was second guessing if he was really ready when Phil came back with a Manila folder. Bruce and Thor were the only one who weren’t there because Bruce had to give a presentation on gamma radiation and Thor was, well, Clint wasn’t certain but he hadn’t seen in him a while. 

Phil’s new badge was shinier than the dulled one he’d had for ages, now with a nice shade of green beneath it. “Snap to it Agent,” Tony was especially grumpy to come because he was still on Fury’s shitlist. “I’ve got people to go and places to see.”

Clint couldn’t help his giggle. It was nerves of course, he wasn’t feeling Little. Stil he had Steve, Nat, Tony and Phil all giving him the same simpering look. Clint scowled back. 

“I know you’re busy but patience is a virtue.” Phil reminded Tony who rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. “I had to convince Director Fury, once more, that you’re an asset, not a danger to the organization.”

Steve looked a little guilty and Clint tried to catch the color block on a busy looking agents walking past. “When will he learn that I don’t care about any of your little secrets unless they directly impact me or my team?”

“Your team?” Steve said, tone a bit scolding like when Clint insisted he was allowed to climb on the counters.

“Potato, potatoe.” Tony waved his hand, taking his badge. “Am I the only one getting out of here or does anyone else need a ride?”

Clint wasn’t certain what his day held; Phil had been so preoccupied with getting the particulars of today down that he had been a bit less attentive than normal. It helped him feel a bit more secure Big so Clint didn’t mind. 

“Today will be more paperwork than anything else,” Phil said, looking directly at Clint. He held out his badge and Clint frowned at his words, taking the plastic rectangle. 

It his same scowling picture from when he fresh off the streets, angry at the world and at Coulson for taking him out of the vigilante game. But his eyes didn’t linger on his photo long: not with the horrendous powder blue color block and bold LITTLE typed under his name. On the back he balked at his age group being included. 

“Something the matter, sport?” Tony drawled and Clint was equal parts embarrassed and angry.

“Phil this is ridiculous.” He leveled a glare he hoped relayed how upset he was. 

“It’s policy, Agent Barton.” Phil was definitely in Handler mode and that made Clint a bit moody. “Put it on.”

Clint exhaled heavily as he obediently clipped it to his lapel. It felt wrong in so many ways, like he had been stripped of his clothes and was now bare for not only Shield but the whole world to see. 

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Tony said dryly and Clint shot him a glare. “Easy there kiddo.”

“I’m not in the mood for jokes, Stark.” Clint bristled and no where near comfortable enough for jokes about his Class. 

“Oof, tough crowd. Well Agent, I’m off because there’s a certain person I am avoiding.”

Clint wanted to go work his stress out in the range but he didn’t want people to see his badge just yet. Delaying the inevitable wasn’t exactly a solid plan but currently it was the only one he had. “I have a meeting shortly. Clint, I believe you’re supposed to be in the armory with some new recruits?”

How had Clint forgotten? His insides iced over and it must have shown on his face because Phil frowned worriedly and Steve made a half reach toward him. Clint had been beyond excited for the chance to teach people things, to be an instructor just like Steve and Phil and Natasha. But now… 

“Clint?” Phil asked softly and Clint had to take a deep breath to steady himself. 

“‘m fine. I just forgot.”

Phil’s sympathetic frown remained and Clint focused his attention to the ground. He would figure something out, he always did. “If you need anything I’ll be on the floor,” Steve offered which made it worst.

He had to prove his Class wasn’t a big deal and the way to do that was by not hiding. But like all things it was easier said than done. 

“I’ll be fine.” Clint sounded confident although he did not feel confident in the slightest. 

Thankfully, no one pushed the topic. 

[oOoOoOo]

He could feel their eyes on him as he explained each weapon, it’s purpose and all the ways it could be modded in the field. 

He could hear their whispers when he finished and started out the door. There was a strange sinking feeling his belly, like he was witnessing a slow car crash. But he didn’t take off his badge and he didn’t clip it backwards like he was sorely tempted to do. With every lingering look he got from the agents around base, he kept his chin up and his focus on getting through the day. If he could make it through day one, the rest would be pieces of cake right?

Bypassing the mess hall for lunch, Clint instead went to Phil’s office. As expected he was at his desk working diligently on something but he stopped immediately when he saw Clint in his doorway. 

“Come in, please. You can close the door.”

Clint did and as the bit of real privacy washed over him, his shoulders sagged and a small whimper crept out of him. Phil met him halfway, arms wrapping tightly around him in an embrace that made everything just a little easier to deal with but left him feeling a whole lot smaller. 

“I know it’s hard, bug. You’re my brave boy for doing this.”

“I don’t wanna be Little,” Clint whispered and Phil just gave him another squeeze. 

Somehow Clint wound up curled up on Phil’s lap, the steady sound of typing lulling him almost to sleep. But he was hungry. And wet. 

“Daddy,” he mumbled and Phil paused, stroking his long fingers through his hair. 

“Feeling Little, hm? That’s okay. We’ll get you home.” Phil seemed to be talking more to himself than to Clint but Clint didn’t mind. He put his own discomforts aside in favor of curling up even closer to his Daddy.

Phil was, well, a bit panicked. He had an afternoon jammed pack of meetings and he hadn’t expected Clint to regress though that was a bit foolish in retrospect because this was the most stressful thing Clint had experienced. Going home wasn’t an option but keeping Clint here felt selfish. He may have been in a pre-nap haze but come the afternoon he’d be his energetic self and he knew his Little enough to know that he wouldn’t be okay with being Little at work. 

Steve had his own meetings to attend to and a lecture that had been delayed far too much already. Clint came first. Nick understood that and never argued when Phil cancelled abruptly when something came with Clint. 

Eventually Phil had to relent to the fact that rescheduling a lecture wasn’t as difficult as rescheduling a meeting with the World Council. 

[oOoOo]

Agent had a meeting that didn’t involve the Littlest Avenger so it seemed that Cap was taking over babysitting duties. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so...strange. 

He knew Barton pretty well, witty one liners, slouched posture and impossible aim. Little Clint was...someone else. He’d spotted the kid version of his teammate twice already, both times in the kitchen. The first time Clint had dove under the table like Tony was a stranger sent to assassinate him and the second time was just unwavering, deeply unnerving eye contact. Steve was a pretty decent buffer but adjusting to hearing him speak to Clint like a child was… Well, it was a work in progress. 

“Can you say hi, Clint?” Steve prodded with a gentle lulling tone. 

It was the third run in and apparently Clint had decided he liked staring so that was the current activity. Tony was doing his best to pretend he didn’t even see him (it was better that way right? a separation of Big and Little, like church and state). That understanding had not been passed onto Steve because he seemed intent on breaking the barrier. The issue wasn’t that Clint was a Little, he was biased or classist or whatever the hell it was call nowadays. Tony didn’t know how to talk to children, much less a Little. He didn’t do the funny voices or pet names that people seemed to use. He wasn’t so sure he even saw the ‘cute’ aspect. 

“Hi Clint.” The Little echoed in a teeny voice nearly lost under the hum of the coffee pot. 

Clint was a chatterbox when Big. Comms were usually buzzing with his voice alone and Tony could place it anywhere. This didn’t even sound like the Clint he knew. It was unnerving and strange and...fascinating. Social sciences never really captured him like tech or engineering did. Usually he didn’t care much about why people were the way they were or why they reacted the way they did. 

But this made him wonder.

Steve beamed up at him, a proud — uncle, maybe? — at Clint’s response. It was so disgustingly...genuine. Tony was ready to write it off as one of those things he would never fully understood because he was a Neutral and this was well outside of his immediate scope. Then a little ding sounded in the kitchen and the quiet Little suddenly jumped up. 

Tony startled at the sudden movement and threw a filthy look toward Clint (common courtesy maybe?) but the kid was staring at Steve like it was a fucking Christmas morning. “Is it time?”

“Yes Clint, they’re all done. Do you need help washing your hands?”

Tony would be lying to say he was curious how old Clint was. It was one of those things you didn’t ask because it was considered rude but it didn’t stop him from wondering. “Um maybe,” Clint dawdled and Steve seemed to find the poor answer endearing as he knelt down to carefully pinch Clint’s cheeks. 

Tony looked away, face hot. It felt as if he was watching something private, a peek into a room he wasn’t meant to be and when Big Clint found out, he would be upset. This side of him seemed to be kept hidden away most of the time and he suspected that it was purposeful. Still, did this mean the amazing Hawkeye wasn’t capable of washing his own hands when he was Little? 

What was Tony supposed to do with this bit of information.

Clint bounced a bit on the balls of his feet and then appeared shy once more, looking in Tony’s direction through long dark lashes. “Steve,” Clint said in a carrying whisper. “Will Tony eat with us?”

Tony froze, unsure on how he felt about being roped into this. “I don’t know buddy. You can ask but he might be busy.”

Tony was always busy, there was a constant stream of thoughts running through his head and stopping for meal times wasn’t exactly in his plans for today. 

“D’ya wanna have dino nuggets?” Clint inquired with a baleful look. 

Steve leveled him a look and Tony felt a bit put on the spot. Of course, he needed to adjust to existence of Little Clint so perhaps a meal would be an okay way to do that? “Sure, why not. The other shi...stuff can wait.”

Steve glared at him for his almost swear but the expression smoothed out with a smile when he looked at Clint. “Okay, lets get those hands clean!”

Dino nuggets were not a part of Tony’s diet but he figured making an exception, just this once, wouldn’t hurt. Plus it’d definitely score him points with Agent and Steve. He wasn’t thinking as he flicked on the TV in the kitchen, mostly for the white noise. Steve and Bruce still watched the news despite having tablets and phones at their fingertips courtesy of Tony. It was still on the news. 

But somehow, some way, the media had gotten their hands on Clint and Natasha’s classifications. Running text read BREAKING: AVENGERS HAWKEYE CLASSIFIED AS A LITTLE, AVENGERS BLACK WIDOW CLASSIFIED AS NEUTRAL. But the conversation was centered on Natasha.

“ — shocking,” the host was saying to a woman sitting beside him at the desk. 

“Yes, I found it very shocking. And deeply unnerving. A Little putting their life, and the lives of countless New Yorkers, on the line is… Well, it’s certainly not something I expected in this day and age.”

“Why do you think it took so long for Hawkeye’s classification to break?”

“I imagine, like his and Black Widow’s identity, it is kept hidden for privacy but is privacy more important than safety?”

Tony should have turned off the TV, especially when he heard them returning but this was bad. Steve hastened over the second he heard and Clint only perked up when he heard ‘Hawkeye’ mentioned. 

[oOoOo] 

Where Little Clint hadn’t cared in the slightest, Big Clint was certain this was the end times. 

“We knew this was going to happen, bug.” Phil tried to soothe him but the filthy look he got told him that maybe it was the wrong tactic.

Clint was pacing the main floor looking like he was sure if he was supposed to fight the media to run from them. Tony had been on the phone all afternoon trying to find the leaked source and supposedly Maria Hill was equally disturbed that someone within Shield had been selling confidential information. 

But Clint didn’t care who it was. All he could think about were the headlines he read before Phil took away his phone. 

‘The Little Issue of Hidden Classifications’   
‘The Avengers Little Secret — Gross Negligence’  
‘A Little White Lie Leads to PR Nightmare for Stark Industries’

There were more, Clint was certain of that. But his heart was firmly lodged in his throat and he felt dangerously close to breaking down. 

“You’re gonna wear a hole through the floor, you keep that up.” Tony muttered, fingers moving through the air.

Clint felt awful for Tony especially. He and Pepper worked hard to make sure their company had good press and Clint had gone and ruined by simply existing. Phil looked tired. He’d had a long day at work only to be presented with another issue. 

“It’s not the end of the world,” Steve reminded him for the umpteenth time that evening. 

“Not for you, maybe. Everyone thinks I’m some useless baby.” 

Phil put down the tablet to pull Clint into a hug. It was in front of everyone and Clint resisted for a few moments before he tucked his face against Phil’s chest and began to cry. Maybe he really was some useless baby after all. 

“Not everyone is saying bad things,” Natasha’s voice startled him enough to pull away. Phil let him go.

She was now leaning against the doorway, expression impassive. 

“What?” He asked thickly, face coloring at his tearful expression. He swiped away his tears, embarrassed. 

“There are a lot of equal rights groups that are ecstatic to have a Little on the Avengers. I’m sure a lot of Littles are happy you’re here too.” Natasha stepped into the room. “So chin up, buttercup.”

“You’re not helpful,” Clint grounded but he hadn’t really thought about what other Littles would have thought. “You really think they’re happy I’m an Avenger?”

“I would be,” Natasha said with a shrug. 

And that helped. Just a teeny bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoyed. If you’d be interested in me posting another part of this where Clint get more comfortable being known as Little to the public (toy stores, you say? fundraisers at the zoo? merchandising? oh boy) let me know in the comments. ^^

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know you thought in the comments. I’m open to suggestions as well!


End file.
